The Beginning of the End
by Shepard.Commander87
Summary: Different storyline of the series. Takes place after A Scandal in Belgravia. Molly feels like she needs a chang, but can she do it? Will she take steps to be away from Sherlock?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

I slammed the door to my flat and fell to the floor in tears. I couldn't believe the turn of events. I went to the Christmas party that John had mentioned to me a week prior with gifts in hand, expecting nothing but a happy, winter filled Christmas-y evening.

I was in my lab preparing some samples for Sherlock when John motioned towards me.

"Hey, Moll. I thought I'd let you know, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson and I are throwing a Christmas party next Saturday evening."

"No I'm not!" Sherlock added into the background and I had to stifle a laugh.

He had scoffed off Sherlock's remark, rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly and continued.

"Mrs. Hudson and I… You are more than welcome to join." John smiled to me.

"Thank you for the invite. I'll think about it, of course." I finished.

"She'll go. She has no family in London and few friends. Most of them will be on holiday, so she will go." Sherlock added absently and I just inwardly groaned and looked down. John gave me a sort of sympathetic look.

I went to my kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine from my cupboard. I brought out one of my wine glasses and angrily opened the bottle up. I sniffled lightly, and decided against better judgment to forgo the glass altogether, which only made me feel worse. I went to the fridge and grabbed some take out from the night before and put it in the microwave.

I practically ran back to the sofa and cuddled with my bottle of wine. It was a pinot noir. I normally am not a fan of reds, but this one is a favorite. I waited for the microwave to ding, signaling the food had finished and turned on my telly as I passed to the kitchen.

I grabbed my food and threw it on the table while I sat in a heaping mess of curls and make –up. I felt terrible. I felt pathetic. I could never show my face again to that man, Sorry, or no sorry. I had never felt so horribly exposed in my life.

A wave of tears washed over me again as I took another swig out of the wine bottle, that I was starting to feel the effects of. I put the bottle down on the table gingerly and picked up my plate of food practically shoveling it into my mouth. I was not a pretty sight at the moment, but I did not care.

I put the plate down and focused on the telly once more, just more sappy Christmas movies that graced the set this time of year. I groaned loudly and turned it off. The last thing my mind needed at the moment was sappy love stories mocking me while I sat here sobbing in a mess.

What did I expect, honestly? I did not expect him to profess his love for me, that's for sure. I did at least expect him to 'take a night off' as John so well put it. I started to feel bad when I thought about John chasing after me as I left not too long after the incident. I pretended to receive an emergency text from Bart's and left without another glance back at the people in the flat; most certainly not Sherlock.

I didn't expect him to compliment my dress, which seemed to mock me even more now and made me feel ridiculous for putting in so much effort for a man who never even cared a glance towards me. It was black and very snug, went about knee length and had studded straps. I had sparkling earrings to match and a bow in my hair. How pathetic. I scoffed at myself and took another swing from my bottle not forgetting to spill some on myself, of course.

The night played over and over in my head. I wanted to drink til I could forget, but I doubt it were possible, the scar was too deep, and it would take much, much more than alcohol to forget the pain.

I went up the steps towards 221B Baker Street and entered the flat.

"Oh! Hello everyone! Note on the door said just come right up!" I smiled to everyone. Mrs. Hudson, Greg Lestrade, John, his girlfriend Jeanette and Sherlock of course were all there. Everyone said hello, which caused Sherlock to make a comment about formalities of greeting people when they came through the door.

John was kind enough to help me out of my coat when he looked at me startled, "Holy, Mary!" John said and I smiled sheepishly.

"Everyone's having Christmas drinkies then?" I said, and I didn't notice Greg behind me staring holes through me. I guess my dress made more of an impact than I had hoped… just not on the right person. Sigh.

"No stopping them, apparently." Sherlock chimed in.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's always worth it." Mrs. Hudson chimed in while she raised her glass in the air.

John pulled up a seat for me and lightly motioned towards it and I gave my nod of thanks. I turned to say hello to Greg who kindly offered to pour me a drink and I nodded my head and said thanks.

"How's the hip?" I asked Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems. Oh god, sorry." I couldn't believe I said something like that.

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Sherlock said.

"Oh… sorry." I whispered. I can be so awkward.

Thank goodness for Greg. He finally came back with my drink in his hand and I smiled thinking of starting light conversation.

"I wasn't expecting to see you, I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas?" I asked casually.

"That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife. Back together a sort of sorts." He said smiling.

"No, she's sleeping with the PE teacher." Sherlock added still looking at John's blog. I saw Greg's face fall.

I turned to John hoping the conversation may get better.

"And John, I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right? Sherlock was complaining…" Sherlock gave me a side glance. "Saying…" I squirmed under his stare.

"First time ever she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze!" John raised his beer in the air.

"Nope." Sherlock said which made a popping sound coming out of his mouth.

"Shut up Sherlock." John snapped back.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of the sitting room, so looking back on the entire situation; I should've seen it coming.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly and you're serious about him…" Sherlock turned to me in his chair smiling.

"…What—sorry, what?" I stumbled out of my mouth. My heart began racing at the unwanted attention and I felt like a deer in headlights, like I had nowhere to go.

"You're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift!" Sherlock stated adding to his previous comment. No… please, no, no no no…..

"Take a day off…" John added in to try and distract him.

"Here Sherlock, have a drink." Greg rushed towards Sherlock trying to desperately change the subject, which only made me feel more and more uncomfortable.

"Oh, c'mon surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. Must be someone special then." He said walking towards the bag of presents and I felt my heart stop. He looked down at me with an innocent smile. Did he really _not_ know what he was doing, or was he truly so cruel?

"The shade of red echo's her lipstick, either an unconscious association or one she's deliberately trying to encourage…" He continued. I couldn't help squirming around in place at the sheer discomfort and embarrassment of it all. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if it were him and I, but we were in front of the closest people we know. I saw John look at me eyes filled with pity. He felt sorry for me. Pitiful ol' Molly Hooper.

"Either way, Miss Hooper has _looove_ on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear that she's even giving him a gift at all. The thought suggests long-term hopes however forlorn. And that she's seeing him tonight is evident in her make-up and what she's wearing, obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts…" I could see him take a breath. He looked as if the gift had burned him. Maybe it had for him being so bloody damn wrong. It took everything in me to fight the tears threatening to pour from my eyes.

"You always say such horrible things… Every time, always...always." I tried looking away. He looked at me and stepped back,

"I… I am sorry. Forgive me." He said. I looked into his eyes and they looked sincere. But they always looked sincere whenever he wanted them to be. That didn't make it true.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He came down and kissed my cheek. I looked at him as he did so. He broke from my cheek when an obnoxious noise come from him.

"Oh! Oh, that wasn—"

"It was me." He concluded.

"What?" I looked at him baffled such a scandalous sound coming from his phone was baffling indeed.

"…Fifty…seven?" John added with a smirk on his lips.

"What?" Sherlock snapped at him.

"Fifty-seven of those texts." John grinned. Sherlock just scoffed and told us he'd be back and went to his bedroom, I could only assume. John kept trying to get a rise out of Sherlock but was surprised that he got nothing.

I began to feel extremely uncomfortable. How I felt more uncomfortable than I did less than ten minutes ago was beyond me. I felt like a cold breeze was running over me. I wanted to scream and fall to the floor. I wanted to cry. I felt like I had just been tossed out of the cold and I knew everyone was avoiding my gaze. They felt sorry for me.

How was it that every damn person in this room knew who that present was for, except for him? How was it that every damn person knew that I loved that man and not him? I understand him not understanding emotionally, but he understands biology perfectly fine, and all he'd have to do is bloody look at me!

I laid down on the sofa as the effects of the wine were starting to crash on me. I could feel them dragging me under into a restless sleep that I probably wouldn't have been granted otherwise. I laid down trying to sleep.

Thoughts of all the times with Sherlock rampaged even my dreams and it was unfair. It made me not want to sleep. I had to sleep. I had to be able to rest. I couldn't take the pain and the anger, the embarrassment and the loneliness. I never felt like this in my life. I sat up abruptly from the sofa and shuffled to the bathroom to grab a bottle of sleeping pills, low dosage so I know it wouldn't do much harm.

_So what if it did. No one would miss me. Sherlock was always keen to point that out._

My consciousness pointed out. I knew it wasn't true. I had friends. They may be few, but they were there and they would do nothing more than hate me if I ever thought such things.

_I refuse to allow a man subject me to such thoughts._

_Sherlock isn't a man. _

_He is human…_

_You know he is not. He is a leech on you Molly Hooper, on your life. Look at what your life has become since he has been in it!_

_Meaningful!_

_Lonely!_

_Wondeful!_

_Pitiful!_

_Happy!_

_Unbearable!_

_Shut up!_

_You are alone!_

_SHUT UP!_

I sobbed out as I crashed into the sofa, having an inner war with myself was never fun. It was especially unenjoyable if what you thought was the losing side was beginning to win.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all again! **

**As I am sure you have all noticed, my story has taken quite a different turn than what actually happens in Sherlock. It's not because I don't like what happens, quite the contrary, I just wanted to make it be more fitting with the story that I am writing, if that makes sense. I know some may be upset by this, and if so, I apologize. I also apologize in advance for how pathetic some of you may think I made Molly. It won't last though, so do not fret! One of my favorite things to do is write a strong Molly! :D**

**Chapter 2 **

I woke in the morning with bitter taste in my mouth and a strong stench of wine. I looked down and saw that my sofa had red stains along it like droplets of blood, but I knew better. I couldn't believe I slept with the bottle in my arms, also, I can't believe I was drunk when I didn't even finish off the entire bottle.

It was Christmas. Well, Merry Christmas to me. I wish I had taken up the opportunity to visit my mum and dad instead of staying in London. I sent them their presents last week, one for mum and one for dad, then one for Tim, my brother. I hope they'd liked what I got them. I smiled at the memory of us opening gifts together on Christmas morning.

I got up from the sofa, sore for the position I had slept in which only made me feel worse than I already had, and walked towards the bathroom to shower as I walked past my purse, which I flung across the room last night I got in, I heard it ringing.

"H—hello?" My voice scratched out. I most certainly did not expect to sound like death.

_"Molly? Molly! It's Mike Stamford."_ My boss. _"I need you to come down to Bart's immediately. Are you all right? I tried calling you last night."_ I looked at the phone surprised as if my boss could see my face. I began to feel embarrassed that I allowed my emotions to get in the way that could've been something important.

_I was entitled._ Man, my conscience could be quite sassy.

"Oh… Oh! I'm sorry Mike. I need to shower, but afterward I will be down as soon as I can." I began into the phone.

_"I need you to take a body that came in last night for examining. Someone will be coming in later to identify the body."_ Mike finished off. It was sad to see someone die on Christmas Eve night. Such a day of love and happiness should not be spoiled by such things, but the world could be a cruel place.

"Oh… all right then." I said absently as I hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

I tossed my phone onto the sofa and went to the shower. I was going to take my time so that I could at least look somewhat presentable while in work.

I brushed and blow-dried my hair. I put on some light make-up in hopes of covering the bags under my eyes. I threw on a mauve colored turtleneck sweater with a pair of jeans and boots. I could walk to Bart's from here.

The day was crisp. It was just after eleven and I was lucky enough that the streets weren't too busy. It was hard to tell on days like Christmas whether it would be a bustling place or desolate; I'm sure the pace of the city will pick up later.

The chill of the December air helped make me look fresher than I felt, which I guess was a good thing. I needed to be alert for the person who was coming in to identify the body. I guess it was better to wait. Probably would've even been better to wait another day to spare their feelings and at least allow them to have a good Christmas.

I pulled the body out from the slab and cringed instinctually. The face was bloodily beat in; I honestly don't know how anyone would be able to tell who the person was, unless they were a lover of sorts. I began looking the body over to see if there were any other signs of a different cause of death aside from blunt force trauma to the head. I would run the toxicology report and do a full autopsy after the body was seen by the family, I thought.

I didn't like the idea of being at Bart's on Christmas, especially after the night I had. I would've been completely content with being hat home, making some hot cocoa and reading a good book. I wanted to just shut away. I usually felt at ease being in my morgue, but I felt on edge. The only benefit to me being here was the fact that I was able to catch up on some paperwork I have been neglecting to file away and prepare for Greg.

I tidied up the lab a bit since things were a little out of place, all thanks to the sporadic appearances of John and Sherlock. I thought about him. I remembered the first day I met him. So young and fresh faced. I was so taken with him even then. I laughed at myself. I thought he was brilliant. His constant need to know and to find out things was endearing. He was polite at first, now knowing who he truly was after almost three years of what I guess could only be described as partnership, he was that way in the beginning to meet his end goal of what he has now.

_Had._

Hmm.

Me waiting on him and allowing him to saunter in all hours and use my lab without protest. Any other pathologist, at either Bart's or anywhere else would've kicked him out ages ago, but I couldn't. I cared too much for him, and I loved watching him work. Seeing the look on his face when he discovered what had been hiding in clues all along brings a smile to my face as well.

I possibly sat there for a good two and half hours when I heard the morgue doors open. I assumed it was the family of the recently deceased woman who lay on my slab. I went out to greet them when I stopped dead in my tracks.

There stood Sherlock and his brother Mycroft standing right above the body.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to get out of my mouth.

"Here to identify a body. You didn't have to come in, Molly." He looked at me thoughtfully.

"Oh, it's all right, everyone else was busy with… Christmas." I said quickly finishing my sentence when I looked at him from my closed lashes.

"The face is a little beat up, so it might be difficult." I said hesitantly.

He looked at me and replied, "Show me the rest of her."

My heart sank. So now I see. I moved the rest of the body bag down so that they could look at the full scope of her body.

"…That's her." And Sherlock dashed off.

"Thank you, Doctor Hooper." Mycroft said as he was about to leave the morgue.

"Wait! How did he recognize her, by… not her face?" I asked hesitantly. I'm not exactly sure I wanted to know the answer. I felt dread inside of me and began to feel even more pathetic about myself.

He just looked at me, smiled slightly, gave me a court nod and left.

_So him too. Figures._

Stop it. My brain was just feeling expressive today apparently. I couldn't take it. I would just delve into my work, go home and that would be it. I needed to figure out a way for us to get past this. Well more so for me to get past it. I doubt he is even thinking about what had happened to us the night prior. But who knows.

I finished the autopsy and toxicology report, just blunt force trauma. I wonder why I never heard or seen this woman before if Sherlock knew her.

_Probably for good reason_

"Yes, but for what?" Yes… I realized I was talking to myself out loud.

_To keep good 'ol Molly on that reliable leash._

"But why? I would still do what would needed to be done. No need to string me along."

_More fun for him. Having a girl to fawn over him by day, and a woman in his bed at night_

I cringed at the thought. Why should I care?! He has never shown any interest in me. I need a break. I need some time away. I need to gather myself together.

_Just go_

_What? Go where?_

_Anywhere. You are smart and successful anyone would want you… you know that._

_But I don't want to leave Bart's. _I whimpered.

_Think of what your life could be without Sherlock in it. The happiness you could have! _My conscience was starting to sound a little bloody greedy.

_I wouldn't!_

_You will never know if you are never given the opportunity. Give it a year. _

_A year…_ I looked off into the distance. A year. A year away from Bart's. I could take up a hiatus at another hospital in the meantime. Maybe even the one where Mary works. That would be nice. Get a new place, start fresh. Be a whole new me. It could be nice. I smiled at the thought.

Smiled? I never thought the idea of leaving Sherlock behind would make me happy. But I suppose a lot of things have changed my outlook quickly.

I could. But how could I do it without him knowing? If he knew, he would surely try and stop me. Or he would think of any thing he could do make sure it wouldn't happen. He'd have to train a pathologist all over again.

_Poor Sherlock… _My mind seethed in anger at him. I never knew my mind and heart could be so separate.

I needed to find a way of doing this. I needed advice from someone I could trust, someone I know I could confide in and who I know would understand.

"John." I breathed out.

I raced to my phone frantically texting him as if I had a time frame it needed to be done by. I looked at my phone confidently and put it in my lab coat pocket waiting for his reply.

**Merry Christmas, John! Did you go**

**To your sister's?**

**Mollyx**

Simple engagement of conversation which will then lead to my question. I tried to make busy around the lab, look over my instruments to see if they needed further cleaning when my phone beeped.

**No I'm afraid. Stuck at the flat with a mopey Sherlock, **

**Told me he saw you.**

**JW**

**Do you think it may be possible I could see you?**

**Mollyx**

I hoped he wouldn't get the wrong impression from my texts but this was urgent. I was absentmindedly biting my lip when another text came through.

**Sure, no problem, Moll. Tonight? At your place in an**

**hour? I could stand to get out. Haha**

**JW**

**Sounds wonderful, John. I'll have dinner waiting. **

**Mollyx**

I smiled triumphantly. I surely hoped he didn't get the wrong idea. I knew this was the only thing I could do. If I left for a year, when I came back Sherlock would have a new pathologist around his finger and I will have hopefully gotten over being in love with him. Maybe even meet a nice bloke, who knows? I smiled at the prospect of me being happy finally happening.

I left Bart's in a hurry. I had no idea what I could possibly do for dinner honestly. So I stopped by Tesco and grabbed a few things. One of those rotisserie chickens, a bottle of red wine and some sides that would be simple enough to heat up and make. I wish I had the time to really make a meal. As I was ready to leave I quickly grabbed an apple pie, that would go wonderfully with the ice cream I had in the fridge.

I took a taxi to my flat and I still had 20 minutes to spare. I popped the chicken in the oven to heat up and put the sides in the microwave. I felt so silly, but it was Christmas and John deserved a good meal, especially if he could somehow help me.

I freshened up a bit and changed my sweater; this one was red, much more festive for the day. I went to the kitchen and put out place settings and then brought the chicken out of the oven. The sides were done, green beans and red potatoes, thank goodness for steamfresh bags! And I put them in their respective bowls. I was about to open the wine bottle when my intercom buzzed.

"Hello?" I pressed the button to speak.

"Hey Moll, its John!" He said happily.

"Come right up!" I buzzed him in and heard him fly up the stairs.

I opened the door to greet him. His eyes were bright and happy. I felt terrible that I never noticed John as much, but I guess it's a curse when you seem to always be in the background of someone like Sherlock. But, John was a very handsome man. He said ash blond hair that graced his face, swept right to his light eyebrows, beautiful honey brown eyes, and a tan complexion. He was shorter than Sherlock, but he was built nonetheless, thanks to his military training. He was wearing a hunter green cable sweater, which brought his eyes out more. He had a bottle of wine in hand, which then only made me giggle.

"Well, we won't be short on drinks!" I said enthusiastically.

"Merry Christmas!" John smiled and gave me a tight wonderfully warm hug.

"Merry Christmas!" I mock bellowed like ol' St. Nick and I was awarded with a laugh. He hugged me tight and swung me while in the hug.

"Oh! You're soo warm!" He said trying to steal more of my warmth. I giggled and blushed at the closeness. From what I can remember we never had hugged. He had a solid frame and a light-heartedness about him that just made you want to be around him, he was indeed the charmer.

"I bought chicken!" I exclaimed. My face dropped a little and turned towards the kitchen. "I would've 'made' dinner if I had the time."

"No worries! Rotisserie chicken for Christmas dinner is better than no Christmas dinner I always say!" He said while taking off his coat.

_You could you know…_

_Could what?_

_He would date you… you could be with John. It's the most logical choice and would send a message. _

_No! John is my friend and that's it! _Man, I was starting to hate my conscience. I shook my head as if my conscience resided somewhere in my mind materially. She was starting to peeve me.

We sat down to a lovely meal, for the short time it took to make and had light-hearted conversation. John told me Jeanette left him on Christmas Eve, _how horrible! _Because she felt she was competing with Sherlock, I could understand that. That's what's happened to a lot of the women John has dated.

"You just need to find a woman who understands..." I tried to say to him.

"Not many out there exist." He said taking a sip of wine.

"I'm sure they do, everything takes time, John." I said putting another piece of chicken along with a potato in my mouth.

"You're one of the few Moll, and well… let's just say, that'll never happen." He said.

"Oh, I see! Not good enough for you, huh?" I said sarcastically trying to hold back my laugh. His eyes shot up at surprise of my accusation, he quickly tried to remedy it.

"Oh, no—not at all! You're wonderful, Molly. Truly. I'd probably even fancy you if you didn't fancy Sherlock so bloody damn much." He said to me, and my face faltered. I didn't want it to go this way. I wanted to initiate asking about the best way to leave, I didn't want him to have pity for me.

"I wish I did fancy you, John, you're wonderful. Please, don't pity me though. I know how pathetic it seems to you." I began.

"Not at all. The man is just a git, that's all. He won't know what he has until it's gone." He said picking at the food on his plate.

My eyes lit up at his choice of words, if there was any opportunity, now would be it.

"John… speaking of which, about the other night…" I started saying.

"Exactly my point he's such a mess—"

"It's had me thinking a lot…"

"I can imagine, I would've punched him in those cheekbones of his."

"That would be a crime!" I said mock offended, and John shook his head and I laughed.

"I don't blame you for leaving, Moll… I just wish—"

"I'm leaving Bart's and I need your help doing it. Please, please John, it'll just be for a year. But I need to be able to trust you to keep him out of the lab long enough until I can transfer somewhere else and for you to not tell him where I am going. I need that man out of my system. I need to move on." I breathed out. I didn't expect that all to rush out of me like a gust of wind, but I guess it was meant to be that way.

John looked at me eyes wide, fork mid-air. It would've most likely been comical under any other circumstances, but this was not the case.

"Molly… Are you sure? You know I can't hide a bloody thing from the man!" He said. "You won't be able to either!" He directed to me voice rising.

"I have to try! I want a life John, and all I have for my life is fawning over a man I will never have, a man who does nothing but manipulate and ridicule me, embarrasses me in front of my closest friends, and expects an 'I'm sorry' to fix it. John, it has been this way, for years. If he holds any value to me at all, then like you said yourself, he won't truly know it until I'm gone." I said, as I took a sip of wine and continued. "I am not expecting the man to fall in love with me, only to respect me and treat me as an equal. Is it necessary for him to constantly make jabs at the flaws, I myself already know I have? I need an environment and a man who appreciates me intellectually and doesn't talk to me like some… pet! I am a doctor and I earned my title, I will not let Sherlock Holmes take that away from me!" I felt my eyes sting with the new onslaught of tears.

John had the face again. The same face he gave me last night. The same one he gave to me every time Sherlock did something to hurt me. Pity. He felt sorry for me, and I knew that this is why he would eventually, and begrudgingly help me.

"All right, Moll. But this isn't going to be easy." John said.


	3. Chapter 3: Just a bit of Pinot!

**Chapter 3**

**I'm sorry everyone! I know you all probably hate me! But I haven't had time to write much, I just started school and have been really trying to focus on it. I have been so out of it lately and my stories just seem to be getting away from me! It's sad really. I will try and update more, promise! But, please read and review! You guys definitely keep me going! :D**

So far I did _not _like the ideas John was giving me, but if anyone would benefit from having me out of Sherlock's life and had the means to make it happen, it was Mycroft.

We were now sitting on my sofa on our second bottle of wine talking a little too close for friends about what I would do.

"We can go see Mycroft tomorrow morning. I'll text him and tell him to send his car to your flat. It'll take us to meet him and we'll discuss what to do from there. Is this all right with you, Molly?" John looked at me apprehensively.

"I'm not sure really. I don't want Sherlock to hate me… I don't hate him." I said worried of what the long term effect of this would be.

"He would never hate you Molly. He may be angry, but it'll blow over. He'll miss you—"

"Ha! He won't miss me, just my lab." I scoffed and took another sip of red wine.

"I know he's not good at things like emotions, Moll… he cares for you, or you wouldn't be in his life. That's it. That's how simple it is to him. No matter how small the part, if you're a part of his life, you're important, and you are in fact a rather large one." He said to me and he put his arm around me and leaned on my shoulder.

"I should probably head back to Baker street, don't want Sherlock to get the wrong idea." He said.

"Oh, he won't. He'll be all mysterious with his cheekbones and say, 'that would never happen. No need to worry, and why would I? Molly is not your type and she's infatuated with me,' blah, blah, blah…" I said doing my best to impersonate Sherlock's voice, swinging my glass around for dramatics.

It must've worked because John was laughing incessantly and almost dropped his glass of wine and fell to the floor. "Oh my god… Oh my—god! He would've… you sound! Oh jeez!" He could not stop laughing, which then caused me to laugh which then caused both of us to laugh and fall to the floor holding each other.

We looked at each other and the compromising position we found ourselves in and blushed.

"Molly, can I ask you a question, and answer it honestly?" He almost slurred.

"Of course Doctor Watson!" I said enthusiastically and pushed on his chest lightly and smiled. I was a flirty drunk.

"You and I… could it have ever been… I don't know… possible, you think?" He asked innocently. The smile on my face went to a blank stun. Would we have? If we never met Sherlock, or if we met each other first? I could almost say certainly, and that thought made me sad.

"I mean it's all right if you think not, truly, I was just curious, you know… It's the wine talking!" He spat out trying to save what he thought was me destroying his pride.

"I only look sad John, cause I think we could've… and that it probably would've been great." I smiled. A sad smile. That is a lifetime away and never to be, it's bittersweet in a way. I suppose it would've been great, but we probably would've bored ourselves of one another over time, since we both so long for excitement, which we both get from Sherlock in our lives.

"You know though. We would've been bored, and probably ended amicably." I tried to joke.

"Yeah, I could definitely see that, no offense Moll."

"None taken, same goes to you, John." I winked.

"Right of—hey wait, you calling me boring?" He laughed out and we began laughing over and over again.

It was well past ten when John finally left. I made sure to get him in a taxi and told him to text me so I knew he got home all right. I faintly laughed and smiled at the events of today, then saddened, I would miss this, dinners with John. He was a great friend to me, and he was one of the many things I would have to leave behind.

I took the glasses that John and I used and put them in the sink along with the other dishes that I would wash in the morning and headed off to bed. I felt better now than I did earlier today, and much better than I did yesterday, so I guess that's something.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. 's POV.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The ride home almost made me sick. I had a wonderful time at Molly's. She is quite the woman. Sherlock can be such a sod, I want to ram him into the wall sometimes.

I finally made it back to 221B. I opened the door to find my flat mate sitting in his chair plucking at the strings on his violin.

"Have a good time at Molly's?" Sherlock asked me with what sounded like agitation in his voice.

"I did. A wonderful time, actually. She's a wonderful host." I said as I plopped down into my own chair across from his. I knew I wasn't going to bed any time soon, so I mind a well sit here and listen to what he has to say.

"You're drunk." Sherlock stated simply.

"No praise for that one, I believe that's fairly obvious to anyone." I laughed out.

"And Molly sent you home? Didn't go as planned then?" Sherlock said trying to hide remnants of a smirk.

"I—I'm sorry?" I looked at him truly baffled. Did he think I had other intentions with our pathologist? Well, our soon to be old pathologist?

"Oh, don't play coy with me John. You fancy Molly, but she wouldn't be with you, you are not compatible and she is infatuated with me. So, I could see a one night stand occurring, possibly even a string of said one night stands, but nothing long lasting." He finished.

I looked at him almost confused at the information and laughed. He looked at me oddly; I think he was hoping I would be mad, which only made me laugh more.

"And what may I ask do you believe is so funny, John?" Sherlock began to say becoming increasingly annoyed.

"Molly..." I tried saying between laughs, "Molly said… said you would…" I busted out laughing almost falling to the floor like I did earlier in the evening.

"Just spit it out John!" Sherlock yelled, probably upset that he wasn't let in on the joke.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax so that I could tell him in one fluid sentence. I had to say it quickly though, cause the laughter was coming back quick.

"Molly said you would say something like that. HA!" I began laughing as I saw Sherlock's eyes bug wide at my statement. I looked at his face filled with surprise and began to have tears and a pain in my side from the fit.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Laugh it up." He said as he set his violin down and did everything but stomp to his bedroom in a tantrum.

I allowed myself to come down from my second fit of laughter for the evening. Christmas turned out better than what I expected. As I headed towards my bedroom, I ran over the events of the evening between Molly and myself.

She wanted to leave Bart's because of Sherlock. For a year she said. I wonder if she could stay away for an entire year. I suppose that's the point of this. It's not about whether she can or not, but that she has to. My face faltered and became sad for her. I knew she hated that, but she wasn't here, so she'll never know.

I have to trust Mycroft that he won't tell Sherlock about helping relocate Molly, even if it's to only be for a short time. Sherlock can always find a new pathologist; Mycroft could even set that up as well. Someone as brilliant and submissive as Molly, maybe they could both finally move on from each other.

I knew that Sherlock cared deeply for Molly, but He was too thick to do anything about it. Either that or he just didn't know how. Besides that, it wasn't fair that Molly hung on to a thread and was drug around without a care of her feelings. If Sherlock didn't want to be happy, then fine. Molly at least deserved the opportunity to be, with or without Sherlock.

I went to sleep rather quickly. The wine definitely helped, along with the workout of two laughing sessions. I had to remember to text Mycroft in the morning to meet Molly and I so that she could speak to him about leaving Bart's.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

I woke up to the sound of slamming and what sounded like the tossing of objects in our sitting room. I ran out in a flurry, worried that a burglary may be in progress and that Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson may be in danger.

"What the hell is—" I looked in the sitting room to find Sherlock looking through various books quickly then tossing them across the room.

"Morning John!" Sherlock said. I nodded my head unsure of what he was doing.

"What on earth is going on?" I asked.

"Bored. I'm bored John!" Sherlock looked up at me.

"All right then. Anything on the blog?"

"No. Maybe I'll go down to Bart's, bother Molly for a few specimens…"

"No!" I shouted.

Sherlock looked at me curiously. "Why not?" He asked carefully.

"She's not in today." I said flatly. That was the truth.

"She was scheduled to work today. She always works the day after Christmas." Sherlock stated.

"Yes… but she worked a full day yesterday, so she's not working today." I said triumphant at my explanation.

Sherlock's face fell as he threw yet another book across the room groaning loudly.

"I need something… SOMETHING JOHN!" He yelled and stood up abruptly.

"I have an idea. I'll go down to the Yard. I need to stop by Tesco anyway and pick up a few things. I'll see if they have any interesting cases for us and I'll bring anything worthy back." I said to Sherlock smiling as I went towards the kitchen to make a kettle of tea.

"Why are you being nicer than usual?" Sherlock quirked a brow.

"Wh—what do you mean?" I asked trying not to become nervous at the attention.

"Normally you would protest when I _ask_ you to do something like go down and look for leads at the Yard. But, now you are _offering_. Why?"

"Honestly Sherlock? Because I want out of the flat and on a case as much as you. I just have a better way of hiding my boredom." I finished.

He seemed to be satisfied with my answer as he continued looking through the many books in the sitting room of our flat. I went and put the kettle on when my phone dinged with a text. I put the cups down and checked my phone.

**Hello John. Did you message Mycroft? Not to **

**be a bother… just curious.**

**Mollyx**

I smiled at her obvious nervousness and I saw Sherlock give me a side glance.

**Not yet, but I will soon. Are you sure about this, **

**Moll?**

**JW**

I put my phone back into my pocket and took the kettle on a tray over to where Sherlock was. I sat down and made myself a cup when my phone went off again.

**Please don't talk me out of it, John. It's hard **

**enough to do as is. I'll see you at 11?**

**Mollyx**

I looked down and sighed, and as soon as I did it, I regretted it.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh… uhm, nothing. It's Molly. She said I left something at her place." I said.

"Well. Right then." Sherlock finished while still keeping his head in his book. 

I hated lying to Sherlock like this. I knew how much he valued Molly as an associate, as well as a friend. I also knew how crass he could be and how horrible he was at showing his appreciation to people who were close to him, which made me sympathize with Molly's point of view. I can only hope that the time a part between the two will do them good, or will at least help Sherlock gain an appreciation for Molly.

"I'm going to get dressed and swing by Molly's before I go by the Yard." I said to Sherlock as I was walking to my bedroom.

"What did you leave at Molly's?" Sherlock said absently as he was flipping through one of his many books scattered around him on the floor.

"My scarf." I said quickly then inwardly groaned.

"No you didn't, it's hanging up with your coat." He said not looking at me fingering through some more pages. He bent one of the pages, closed it, and the headed towards me quickly looking me up and down questioning my motives. Not now Sherlock, I don't have the energy.

"What are you hiding from me John? Whatever it is, it won't work, and you know it. So you mind as well tell me as it is pointless, as well as harmful to our friendship." Sherlock said looking down at me.

"I'm hiding nothing, Sherlock. I suppose Molly just wanted to talk. Things did get a little awkward last night, so maybe she just wants to clear the air." I said to him, reassuringly. At least what I said was the truth. Last night was a little odd and out of character for Molly. Maybe if she were more like how she was last night, every day, Sherlock would notice her more.

"What do you mean by 'awkward'?" Sherlock said emphasizing the word in air quotes. "Did something happen?" He looked down at me, and it seemed like his eyes darkened as if he became more aggressive.

"Wh—what? No! Well, not exactly… Just Molly was, different than usual." I said. I don't have time for this…

"Different how?" He quirked a brow at me and tilted his head slightly.

"Oh… you know…"

"I believe I do not, John. Thus me asking." He looked impatient.

"She was just, more open, and friendly. We talked and had a good time. She wasn't shy, she was... strong and confident and self-assured. It was good to see her like that." I finished.

"Oh…" Sherlock simply said and looked off puzzled. "I didn't know she could behave in such a way…"

"You never gave her the opportunity to do so." I almost spat at him.

"I have to go now, Moll's waiting for me." I said in Sherlock's direction as I quickly rushed off to my room to quickly gather my things so I could shower and change.

I dashed for the door not without grabbing my coat and ran down the stairs to see Sherlock in his mind palace, which only seemed to frighten me. I went to hail a cab when I saw a black sleek car approach me and I visibly groaned. I do not have time for this.

As I approached the door the window came down to reveal Mycroft, to my surprise, He gave me a curt nod and gestured for me to follow in.

"I don't really have time for this right now, Mycroft." I said impatiently as I began fidgeting with my coat. Not to mention, Sherlock might have—no did spot his brother's car I'm sure, and will definitely think something is up.

"Yes, yes… I know, John. Helping Miss Hooper escape my brother's grasp, quite noble of you, noble indeed." He looked to me smirking.

"How did you—wait, never mind." I didn't even finish the question. I almost dreaded wondering where Mycroft got his information from.

"Brother would probably be seething if he saw what I saw on Christmas evening happening between you and Miss Hooper." He teased as he looked around the car unbothered and flicked something off his suit that wasn't there.

"You have Moll's flat bugged?!" I said to him fuming. My voice escalated quite quickly, but it had no reason to. I wasn't ashamed. I had no reason to be, nothing happened between Molly and I, and nothing would, but it still, it was kind of perversive of Mycroft. Nothing new I guess.

"I will help Miss Hooper, John. _But,_ she will not stay away for so long. Even I cannot hold her position for that length of time. I would say possibly three to six months would more or less suffice." Mycroft finished.

"Probably because you know any longer than that and Sherlock would become unbearable to deal with am I right? Not to mention he would find her, eventually." I added in. Mycroft said nothing but continued to look at me.

"You are greatly misunderstanding one thing about my brother, John. " He began.

"And that is what?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what his oh so all knowing brother could enlighten me with.

"You are assuming that my brother will care at her lack of absence." Mycroft said sitting up straighter as the car stopped. He opened the door and motioned for me to go out, with him following behind. I turned to look at him and said.

"And you would be a fool to think otherwise, Mycroft." and headed towards Molly's flat.


	4. Chapter 4: The Lioness

**Chapter 4**

**Hello everyone! I hope you are enjoying the story so far! Please don't be upset as I seem to be running away with my creative lisence to very dark places, but I assure you, it'll all end well, as I hate sad endings. haha On with the reading! :D**

I paced back and forth through my flat trying to collect my composure. I knew I had to go through with this, even if it weren't for an entire year. I could feel my resolve wavering slowly, but surly. John better hurry up before I change my mind.

I heard the familiar buzz of my door bell and didn't even bother to question who it was, since I knew it was most likely John. I became even more fidgety as my hands started tangling each other then I went to biting my nails. I looked around frantically wondering when I would have all the time to pack everything I haven't already packed. I was escalating quickly on the verge of hysteria when John walked in with Mycroft right behind.

"Oh, John! Thank goodness!" I almost yelled. I braced into him with a strong bear hug trying to secure myself. To let myself know that I was not floating away from the situation. This wasn't a dream, or a nightmare. This was happening, this was going to happen.

"Hey Moll. Ease up on the grip, yeah?" He chuckled out lightly, and I blushed slightly and apologized. I saw Mycroft behind him and nodded formally in his direction and he paid me the same gesture.

"Miss Hooper." Mycroft said.

"Would you boys like some tea?" I asked politely as I began walking. I heard John say yes and Mycroft simply nodded. I made some pastries this morning, so I put them on a wonderful china serving tray and brought them out onto the coffee table in the sitting room when the kettle was ready. I could see Mycroft fighting the urge to be the first one to grab a cake, so I broke the tension and grabbed a biscuit.

"Help yourselves, please. I made plenty." I smiled trying to urge them on. I saw Mycroft almost too happily for a Holmes grab three pastries from the plate and stuffed one into his mouth. I heard something reminiscent of a peep escape his mouth while he chewed lightly on the food and I giggled.

"These are quite lovely, Miss Hooper." Mycroft looked at me, and it was like a different man was sitting in front of me. A man who had become thirty years younger, it suited him. It made him charming. I smiled in thanks and took a sip of my tea.

"Please, call me Molly. Also, thank you for your help in doing this. I know it must be somewhat hard deceiving your brother." I admitted morosely.

"No, no… not at all. This is brother and I's game. We love deceiving one another. I wish I could tell you I am performing, a 'joke' but frankly, it is truth." Mycroft said as he took a sip of his tea and took another bite of his biscuit, once again eyes lighting up.

"You ever tried making him pastries?" Mycroft added after swallowing the previous bite and I almost snorted in laughter. How different the Holmes brother could truly be. No wonder they clashed, so unlike, yet so the same. Or were they the same? Were they? Was it that I just didn't have the privilege to see this side of Sherlock? My eyes saddened a little and I saw John shaking his head at Mycroft's antics, which helped me brighten up a great deal. How I will miss the fun.

I began to sit up to make a second kettle of tea and to add more pastries to the serving plate when I noticed Mycroft and John straighten up in their seats. They must be ready to get down to business then.

I came back inside to listen to the idea that Mycroft had for me leaving Bart's. I assume I don't really need a reason to leave, but I need to know what my plans are for the next year. I sat down staring at the two intently waiting for one of them to talk.

"Okay, well Moll, Mycroft had this ide—"

"It would not be wise for you to stay away from St. Bartholomew's for a year, Miss Hooper. Even I cannot guarantee your position will be there after such a long absence." Mycroft began.

"I understand." I said. Part of me was happy, and sad at the news. I assume it was better this way. I probably wouldn't have lasted a year away from Bart's, away from Sherlock. So I can see the logic in it all really, I began reasoning with myself.

"I suggest a three to six month transfer sabbatical at a neighboring hospital, the one where you said your friend, Mary? works. Mary Morstan, is that correct?" Mycroft said to me as he pulled out a file folder from what seemed to be from nowhere.

"Well, yes, yes she is. She's my best friend. We went to Uni together." I added. Unnecessary information, I know, but it gave me purpose to go there.

"Yes. You have known her for apparently… thirteen years, as you are currently 33 years old." Mycroft said absently.

"Yes, yes I am." I said almost unhappily.

"Youngest graduate in your class at Oxford University, Summa Cum Laude and perfect marks in your class. Did your residency at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and was immediately offered the position in the Pathology Department." Mycroft finished as he shut his case folder, on me I assumed.

"Got my stats in there as well?" I smirked.

"I know everything about you, Miss Hooper." Mycroft said and I couldn't help but shiver at him. He definitely had the Holmes flair.

"I have arranged for you to have a flat not further than five minutes from the hospital where you will be working. You will be Assistant lead of the Pathology and Toxicology Department at the hospital, helping them temporarily while they find a suitable candidate for the position. The flat will be substantial, as well as the income you will make. You can make any changes to the flat you wish, and I encourage you to do so. I also would encourage you to change yourself, Doctor Hooper. If you have intentions on coming back to Bart's with a vengeance, give purpose as to why Sherlock perhaps required you presence and why he should miss you. Do not be afraid of letting him know when he is out of line. You consistently bending to his will, will not win him over, it will only have him mistreat you even further. It is true, my brother is brilliant, possibly one of the most brilliant men this world has ever known, but don't let that be the reason to allow him to mistreat you… Molly." Mycroft finished as he stole another warm pastry off the plate. I looked at him stiffly. I stared blankly at his face, mouth agape at such a profession from one of the Holmes men. It startled me pale and I didn't quite know what to say, but to heed his words as gospel.

If Molly Hooper did come back to Bart's with a vengeance, she had to come back with purpose. She couldn't come back as Mousy 'ol Molly and be walked on and thrown into the cycle all over again. She had to become the lioness she was meant to be, to shine brighter than anyone thought she were capable; so bright she would blind out the sun. She had to go there with purpose and meaning, and not allow a man to control the choices that she made in her life, especially things such as her job, which she, (I) love so dearly.

I looked to John and gave him a stern nod of approval and John nodded back to me, which then caused us both to look at Mycroft sipping on his tea quietly.

"You'll start your new job on Monday." Mycroft began. "I will have Sherlock working on a case out of town, too much for him to pass up and he won't know that you left." He finished putting his tea down in the saucer.

"All right." I said blankly. I looked at my table. I knew I was zoning out, but what more could I possibly do? I was leaving my life behind. The life of Molly Hooper, the one I had built for so long. But had I really? Hadn't I just given up at one point? I gave up on men, I even gave up on friends, and then I began giving up on myself. I should've never allowed myself to do that, but I became a mess, and all I could think of that moment was me, sitting on the very couch Mycroft and John were sitting on, in a heaping mess of curls my chest heaving up and down in hiccups of tears because of the pain from the other night. Looking at it from another perspective, as if it were a movie made me feel sorry for the girl, I wanted to cry. I saw how helpless and pathetic she was lying there so beautifully strewn across an old couch with her wine bottle in hand tears staining her face, mouth wailing, and I winced at the sound as if I could hear it, or maybe it was the shame, that I allowed myself to fall so far and so hard for one man, a man who barely noticed my existence.

I looked away and discovered a new resolve within me. It was a new day and a new life for Molly Hooper, and I would most certainly make the best of it.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The next couple of days passed without much commotion. Sherlock and John were out of town on a case, as Mycroft promised, a triple murder apparently. That would definitely keep him busy for at least three days I would assume, maybe even longer if Mycroft did any tampering to the evidence.

I slowly took some of my things home as it was Thursday. I didn't tell anyone about me leaving except for my boss Mike, who had already found a replacement for me, thanks to Mycroft. Jennifer her name was. Also a young girl, a blonde, blue eyes shining, I remember when my eyes sparkled like that when I first started at Bart's. She was toned and had what seemed to be a posh accent, but I couldn't tell if it were genuine. Very petite and curvaceous and had wonderful skin. Oh, Sherlock will have fun with her. I almost found it unbelievable that she chose to work in a mortuary. Maybe she didn't, maybe Mycroft just chose a spy, definitely made more sense.

She had been here since Tuesday for some training, and frankly, she was a fast learner, part of me was happy I was leaving the lab in such good hands, but then part of me seethed in anger at the fact this woman would be sauntering around Sherlock helping him on his cases, and not me. It was the only thing I shared with him, and she'll take that away. I pouted.

I left work and went home to my flat packing the rest of my things. Not much left to do really. Mycroft said that he would send movers tomorrow I could leave my now old flat on Saturday morning so I could settle in. He told me to only take the essentials, since he took the liberty in buying furniture for the place apparently. I was sort of excited to see what was in store. If Mycroft decorated the place with cat painting and such, I will hurl the fresh baked pastries I plan on making for him, thinking he could give me a dose of that wonderful Holmes humor.

Toby was becoming restless. He never liked changes. He was a rescue and it took him time to get used to my flat when I treated him well, so hopefully it won't be too much when we move to the new flat.

I called Mary the other day and she was so excited to find out I would be staying at her hospital for a while. I told her everything and she understood completely and thought how nice Sherlock's brother must be and how I should date him! Nah, he's only being nice to me because this will inevitably benefit him, as well. Which then made me feel a little bad.

_Oh, such a shame._

Well then, long time no speak conscience. I must've been doing something right for a while to shut that sassy woman up. But, I assume, she's the one I have to embrace now. I sighed and walked to my bedroom and looked in the mirror.

I looked myself up and down and it took everything in me to not groan at my appearance. I was wearing my khaki pants, a pair of flats, a coral tank top and my cherry cardigan, could I look any worse? My hair was in a high ponytail pulled tightly back and it made my face look thinner. I read in a magazine somewhere that wearing your hair back tight makes you look older. I decided that I would take a half day tomorrow and treat myself to a little shopping spree and some grooming. I think I deserve it. What better way to create the New Molly Hooper, than to actually look a little different? I looked in the mirror once more and stripped off my many layers of clothing til I was left in my plain bra and panties. I decided I would go to the gym more. I want to tone up a bit. I'm not fat or anything, but I like to look toned and it'll give my mind something to focus on while I'm not at work. Maybe I'll even start painting again, who knows? I would look forward to that. It could be fun.

I took my hair out of my ponytail and brushed it lightly as I went to lie down on my bed. I looked around my old dusty room, all pictures gone, no trace of me left, except me in my bed at this moment. I have never been so scared or nervous before in my life!

The next morning seemed to come in a rush. I told Mike I was leaving at 1, so he bought me a cupcake and was trying to fight back tears. I told him I would be back in a couple months, but not to tell anyone where I was going or when I would be back. He looked at me and nodded agreeing. Jennifer fit in quite well, the nurse and the people upstairs, especially all the male nurses and doctors seemed to like her. Of course. I rolled my eyes. I made a hair appointment for 1:30. I was going to just go in and get a trim, but I remembered what Mycroft told me about changing myself as well, and I thought I could do for a change. It's not like hair doesn't grow back, right?

When I left Bart's I will admit it was sad. I shed a few tears and almost wanted to call the whole thing off leaving Mike there the way I did. But, I knew this had to be done, and it would work out one way or another.

I walked two blocks over and across the street to a hair salon I loved going to. I knew all the girls by name, and they all knew me, so it was a great thing. I went in there chipper.

"Hey!" I said swinging the door open happily.

"Molly! How are ya girl?!" The one named Madeline said to me. She had dramatically short hair, almost too short for a woman some would say, shaved on the side with it long on the right. The shaved part was dyed red and the long length on the right side was bright red then faded to black. She was tall and athletic looking, she was one of the best stylists I had ever known. You wanted something crazy, you went to Maddie.

"The usual trim for ya, Moll?" Maddie said to me as she guided me towards the shampooing station.

"No, actually, I ah… wanted something a little different…" I said shyly, and I saw Maddie's eyes gleam. Oh no.

Almost two hours later and I was leaving the salon all smiles. I cut my hair, short. It was now cut between the length of my jaw and shoulders and fell nicely. I decided to get a loose curl perm, I thought it may help with the issues with my volume, and it certainly did. Maddie recommended some highlights and I'm glad she did. They looked wonderful and brightened up my pale skin. She added slight bangs for a finishing touch.

I practically skipped home to find my flat almost bare. I wanted to panic, but realized it was the movers that Mycroft had instructed. He didn't want them to interfere with my work schedule. How considerate of him. How strange.

I lay on my bed for the last time; Mycroft said that he had a new one awaiting me. Like I said earlier the excitement is nearly killing me. I decided to read a book I had held behind. I knew I would've grown bored otherwise. I was feeling more and more confident about what I was doing and how this were going to be in the future which only made me more content with my decision. The only thing I regret is not being able to say goodbye to John since he's on his case with Sherlock.

Sherlock… That, impossible man. I have loved him for so long, and I have been there, always when he needed me, and I still would be. If he found out what hospital I was working at and needed me, I wouldn't turn him away. I would help him, because he is a good man. He truly is. He's just a blind, stupid man as well! I sometimes want to hit him over the head. I chuckled lightly to myself as I pictured doing just that, and then I became sad. I would miss him… terribly. What if he found a woman? What if he did have a relationship? What if he grew to hate me, even despise me? What if I came back and he treated me even worse?

_Well, you just won't let that happen, will you?_

No. No I won't I won't that that happen.

I am Molly Hooper, I am a strong woman and I will overcome the mousiness that has gotten me to this point I will be strong I will not let my affections crush and crumble me, but I will not become immune either. I will feel and love with all I am, but remember that I am worthy of good treatment. I will remember the words that John said, that Mycroft said.

I will come back with a vengeance; I will come back to Bart's with a purpose. Not to have that man love me, I just want him to respect me. He will respect me. I will be the strong willed confident woman I was always meant to be. The woman I am but hide so often because I am afraid, afraid of hurting others, afraid of hurting myself. When those actions have done nothing but hurt me. I will be strong, I am strong.

I am Molly Hooper, Hear me roar world.

I cried triumphantly in my mind as I drifted off to sleep with Toby purring by my side.


	5. Chapter 5: Should I Stay or Should I Go?

**Chapter 5 **

**Hello everyone! I didn't plan on having this finished today, but I just kept on writing! I hope you like it! It seemed to go in a different direction than I actually wanted it to, so I hope you like it. Please read and review. Thanks! :D**

I woke to my empty flat with the faint buzzing of my door. I will miss the ever so irritating sound. I could only assume it was Mycroft since it was certainly moving day. I sluggishly got up from bed and threw on my sleeping gown and slippers and sauntered to the panel to push the button to allow the man in.

I heard a racing up the steps and my heart began beating out of my chest. There is no way that is Mycroft. Mycroft runs for no one. My eyes began to widen and I swung the door open frantically to see John standing in front of me panting.

"You—have to… have to go… NOW Molly! Hurry!" John rushed out as he motioned me down the stairs.

"Bu—but I'm still in my sleeping gown!" I peeped and he groaned loudly shoving me into the sleek black sedan I could only assume was transportation from Mycroft. As soon as I got in John's breathing began to settle. I looked at him worried at what might have happened. I could only imagine so many fantastically horrific scenarios in my head.

"What's wrong?" I asked him and John shot his eyes up to me suddenly.

"What's… WRONG? I'm here! Shouldn't that tell you who is ALSO here?!" He said to me voice escalating. My mind was still laced with sleep so it took a little while for me to piece what John was trying to say together, but when I did. I gasped.

"Oh no… Oh no!" My voice became frantic. Sherlock was back in town. It would not take him long to figure out something was amiss. It would also not take him too long to take some new samples he collected while he was out of town down to Bart's for observation and find out that his mousy pathologist was nowhere to be seen. This would not end well. Not at all.

"Nice hair by the way Moll. Looks great on you." John sighed out. I almost laughed comically. Our lives, never a dull moment I guess. I could either call the whole thing off or confront him completely. I couldn't lose any more dignity than I am losing right now riding around town in a luxury car in a sleeping gown.

"Oh what the hell. Take me to Baker Street." I said in a rasp. I would most likely regret this. No, I would regret this. I would regret it all.

"Perhaps you'd like to stop off for some more… presentable attire beforehand… Miss Hooper?" I heard Mycroft say from the front of the car and I almost jumped from the surprise. I nodded in agreement and we stopped suddenly in downtown London as if they knew I was going to go with this plan, maybe they did know, even before I did.

We walked into what appeared to be a posh French shop. I didn't want to look like a runway model, I just wanted some damn clothes! I settled on a form fitting green dress with a scoop neck and a pair of black pumps. The look did help me with my confidence, which I will definitely need for what's coming in store for me. I don't even know what to say, I don't even know if I'll know where to look while I'm talking to the damn man!

The women allowed me to change in one of the fitting rooms and we left casually getting into the car less frantic than last time. We had no reason to hurry now. We weren't fleeing, if anything, we were going to taunt the great big ol' monster that was Sherlock Holmes.

I knew he would be on edge after coming home from a long case, he always was. Normally he would bring samples that he found and test some experiments down at Bart's until something interesting happened again. It was nice, some of the only nice times we ever seemed to have together was when we spoke over dead bodies.

The ride to Baker street was quiet, even John didn't say a word. I expected some sort of pep talk or warning, but nothing came. I assume he already knew that I knew what I was in store for, and that I already signed my fate. I could've ran away, I could've dashed right out of town into a new life without saying goodbye, without telling him why, but that's what Mousy Molly Hooper would've done, and that's not who I am anymore. Last night, Molly the Lioness was born; and it was time for her first time in the spotlight.

We pulled up to the flat and all I could do was fidget. Was my dress to tight? Did I look silly? Was my hair a mess? Was I going to trip? I was going to trip. I'm going to make a fool of myself.

_Stop it right now. March up there and tell him why you are leaving. You tell him it's because of him, because he hurt so for so long and so deep. He needs to know. You need to know that he knows!_

It's true, I do. I took a deep breath and walked up the steps after John and Mycroft.

As I walked into the foyer, I hear things being thrown around upstairs. I almost stopped as I heard his anger and frustrations, it made me hurt to know he was in torment. I may want to prove myself, but it doesn't mean I don't still love him.

"Oh Dearie, you don't want to go up there…" Mrs. Hudson tried to say to me as she lightly put her hand around my forearm to guide me to her flat. She was always so nice.

"I have to, whether I want to or not, Mrs. Hudson." I smiled at her wearily and began walking up the steps. I allowed John and Mycroft to enter first and stood by the entrance waiting for the right moment to enter.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?!" John almost shouted at his flat mate.

I peeked my head around and saw him turn abruptly and face John eyes wide and wild. He was still wearing his coat, his hair in a mess of wonderful curls, his bright eyes bored holes into John's face and his pale blue shirt was open slightly as the first two buttons had come undone. My mouth became dry.

"What am I doing? What am _I_ doing?" He seethed. Sherlock closed the distance between them and had his face centimeters away from John's.

"Care to ask where I've been, _John_?" I saw the sinister grin spread across John's face and I could see John gulping from here. I felt for him.

"Do I need to?" John said expectantly.

"I assume not. And here he is, dear brother. Of course it's you. How could it not be you. What the hell did you do with her Mycroft?!" Sherlock shouted.

"I did nothing. Why would I?" He simply stated smile spreading across his face.

"I should've known not to trust that a triple murder would take me four days to solve. You purposely tampered with the evidence. Why? Why did you want to rid me of Molly? She is my pathologist and one of the best; I need her to do my work!"

"He didn't, Sherlock…" I said as I quietly stepped into the flat which became so still that I could hear the blood pounding in my ears it almost made me dizzy.

He looked me up and down, possibly inspecting what I was wearing and the change in my appearance. He cocked his head to the right and took a couple steps close to me.

"Hair is short, curled, and lightened, with… highlights. Given bangs at the stylist's request. The new look suits you. The dress is new and not of your usual taste, first time wearing it. Possibly bought it today…" He came closer and sniffed it. "Yes most certainly bought it today. You normally wash all of your new clothes before wearing them, which means you were in a rush. You had to have bought this before coming to see me. You had to have been home, because I knew that's where John was going, so why didn't you change the—ah… they didn't allow you the time to change, you were fleeing from something or someone. Most likely nothing dangerous, if so, you would've told me." He circled around me and it made me uncomfortable I began gulping and started to feel parched. He always had this effect on me. It killed me that he could have such power over me.

"You're standing up straighter. You have a different air about you, a confidence that was not there. What happened to you, Molly Hooper?" He stopped abruptly right in front of me, his eyes bright blue and shining for me to see. His wonderful complexity looking into me, his wonder all for me. The attention I had always wanted from this man, and here I was getting it, the moment when I was about to tell him I was leaving. I almost faltered, but that would defeat the whole purpose. I had to follow through. If not for myself, then at least for the ones who helped me. John and Mycroft. He stared at me expectantly, his eyes softened a little.

"I went down to Bart's and there was another woman there." He began. He knew, Of course he knew… he could see it, he could always tell.

"Yes, Jennifer." I said quietly. I don't even like saying the woman's name. "She's smart." I added.

"She's not you." He countered. His eyes hardened for only a moment.

"You're leaving then." He concluded. He seemed to move closer to me. His eyes sparkled and looked at me almost pleadingly.

"Yes, I am." I said. I choked it out. I chastised myself for being so weak, but I couldn't bare the raw emotion on the normally emotionless face of Sherlock all for me. It made it hard to breathe.

"Because of me…" He drawled. His voice cracked. I could tell he didn't care that others were in the room. His eyes were on me and only me. For only a moment, I looked up to see John and Mycroft looking at him with those eyes, the eyes they usually held for me, the feelings that they only seemed to have for me, like the night at the Christmas Party, and like that night in the morgue, and like the day when I was in my flat imagining pathetic Molly Hooper on her sofa crying. They held pity. They felt sorry for Sherlock and it made my heart break even further, because I was doing to him, what he had done to me for so long. How could I judge?

He broke my heart and I assumed that he had no heart to break but here I was trying my best to fight the stinging feeling behind my eyes for him.

"I need to!" I pleaded. I put my hands on his chest. I don't know how much longer I can hold them back now.

"I know. I know you do." He whispered to me and put his hands over mine. I let out a breath at the contact and he looked into my eyes with such emotion. I never seen him hold such feeling, except for annoyance or anger, and even then it was never this strong.

"It won't be long. I promise. I… I just need time." I said to him as one lonely tear fell down my cheek and I turned my head away silently cursing at myself for being so weak. After a moment I felt one of Sherlock's hands leave mine and go to my face to face me to look at him. He turned my head upward and wiped away the tear from my cheek. His hand was so warm it felt like it was burning my skin.

"I understand. Take as long as you need. It is my fault that you even have to do this in the first place and for that, I am truly sorry… Molly." He said. Every part of me wanted me to reach to him and kiss him senseless like he was the last man on earth like he were about to disappear. I suppose it was partially true. He was going to disappear. I wouldn't see him for a long time and it was eating at me like a cancer.

"Bart's will still help you, I made sure of that…" I tried saying to break the emotion from my voice. I couldn't break out into a sob, I just couldn't. By this time, John and Mycroft moved to the kitchen to have some tea.

"Right, yes…" Sherlock began as he let me go slowly and began walking backwards toward his chair.

"Can you tell me where you will be?" He asked innocently enough absently plucking his violin while sitting down. He looked at me and his eyes lightened a little. I wanted to almost giggle at the look on his face, but I couldn't. I wanted to run to him and not let go, but I know he doesn't want that.

"No. Not right now. I need time, Sherlock, I need time away…"

"From me?!" His voice became louder and I could see anger flood his eyes. He was not happy at the turn of events and I myself was being pulled in by the anger.

"Yes! Because of you! For years, Years! You have belittled me, ridiculed me, and treated me harshly. You have manipulated me and said such horrible things and I have always forgiven you, with a smile no less." I looked him full on as his eyes began to widen at my boldness. "But the party was the last straw. Sherlock… I don't ever expect you to ever love me, or even care for me!" I spat out. He flinched at my words. Had he truly not known how I felt about him? I was crying full on trails down my face now, hands fisted at my sides in a defensive stance towards the man I love. I never knew it would be so difficult. He doesn't have to love me. As much as I want him to, I really do… I could just live with the man treating me as an equal.

"All I want… is for you to _respect_ me… Sherlock. To treat me as an equal. As someone who is smart, intelligent and knows what she is doing and is damn well good at it! I don't need your hugs or kisses or your love, all I want is to not be some ghost of a figure to you who is only there when it's convenient." I huffed out. My breathing became more erratic and I could feel John's and Mycroft's glances on me from the kitchen. I became angry at myself for crying like the fool I was.

"I cried. For years, over you… Sherlock Holmes, but I never cried so much like I did that night right here, right in this spot." I stomped right to where I stood and I could see the hurt on his face.

"I said I was—"

"I know what you said!" I yelled, "But sometimes it doesn't work. Not everything is cured by an 'I'm sorry'. I wish it were as easy to forget you and move on, but it's not, if you were any other bloke on this damn planet, it would be. It would be so simple. I would go home, open a bottle of Pinot, and read a trashy love story and think of you, but I could never forget you. I know that, so I won't even try. You are the most brilliant man I know, maybe even the most brilliant man anyone has ever known, but you know what else you are? Completely oblivious to those around you. No, sorry, completely oblivious to me." I whimpered out and ended in a pout. I didn't want it to end on this note; I wanted to end it somewhat amicably. I planned on coming back at some point and I didn't want him hating me.

His face was flushed with emotions and I felt I overwhelmed him with all the information, but I could tell by the looks on his face the he knew what I was saying was true, which seemed to only make him feel worse. I walked slowly over to his slumping figure as I watched him plucking the strings on his violin purposely slow. I smiled sadly and knelt down in front of him.

"I'll come back." I drawled out trying to be positive.

"Yes, I know that, I'm not a child, Molly!" He said from underneath his mop of curls.

"Could've fooled me." I chided. He looked up at me then and I could see his eyes had become glassy. I gasped at his face. I slowly placed my hand on his pale cheek and stroked it softly.

"Just hate me. It'll be easier." He pouted.

"Can't." I peeped.

"You probably never tried." He countered.

"Well, why should I? I don't want to. You won't hate me… will you?" I asked innocently. His eyes widened and he looked baffled at my question.

"Have I destroyed you so much that you believe that after given so much evidence of all the horrible treatment and grief I have caused you that I have any right whatsoever to even be the least bit angry?" He said in a whisper. He looked… ashamed? Oh, god, I don't want him to do this to himself.

"Sherlock… look at me. I will never hate you."

"You should…"

"But I won't." I finished. "I just need time, to become the Molly I set forth for myself to be, and for me to become that Molly, I need to be… away for a while."

"Away from me." He pouted.

"Oh, Sherlock… you git." I chuckled. He looked up at me surprised that I was smiling at him.

"How is it, that after all I have done to you, you still smile for me?" he asked truly curious.

"How? Well… Because I love you." I simply stated. He looked at me almost about to brush my reasoning off when I placed my other hand on his other cheek and pulled him in for a soft, sweet kiss. From the action, I could tell he was surprised, but I didn't really expect anything else. After a few seconds though, he put his violin down and snaked his arms loosely around my waist bringing me in tighter in his embrace, I felt a wetness on his skin and before I could even say anything, I knew it was his tears, which were now mingling with mine. How is it that all of this had to happen for me to just be able to finally touch his perfect lips and have his wonderful slender arms around my waist which now traveled up to my spine, he growled in what sounded like frustration, and against better judgment I pulled away to see what was wrong.

"What?" I almost spat at him impatiently.

"Your hair… it's gone." He pouted. I laughed.

"I always wanted to run my hands through it." He whispered into my ear which had me lean my cheek against his and sigh contently.

He pulled me up from the floor and ushered me to the entrance of the flat. We both stopped when we noticed a stunned friend and Holmes brother in the kitchen staring in our direction.

"What?" was all Sherlock could say. And I had to stifle a giggle.

I heard John mumble something and Sherlock shot his head right up, "Say something, John?!" He said agitatedly. "Nope, nothing… nothing like 'bout damn time' at all." He coughed out. I smiled.

Sherlock turned to me. He placed both of his hands on my shoulders and came close to me.

"You promise you'll come back?" He said finally.

I looked into his eyes and smiled. "I promise. I will contact you soon." I said.

"You better." He said while brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"Goodbye, Sherlock." I said, voice cracking.

"Goodbye, Molly Hooper." Sherlock replied and then bent down and kissed me deeply. Now of all the times in this world damn you Sherlock bloody Holmes! I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to drag him to his bedroom! He snaked his arms around me and pulled me closer. We probably would've ended up in his bedroom if John hadn't cleared his throat. Apparently.

After our goodbyes, John, Mycroft and I left 221b Baker street to head to my new flat and my new life, for the time being. As I entered the sleek sedan I swore I heard the saddest melody.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Daily Grind

**Chapter 6 **

**Hello all! Sorry this chapter took so long to put up! School has been killing me and I have been trying diligently to do well, so my time has been mostly focused on that. I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think!**

I woke up feeling like hell. I awoke in a daze not knowing what had happened. All I remember was that I seemed to have been waking in and out of sleep.

I opened my eyes to a pale blue room. It was bright and had long curtains on the left side, covering doors to a terrace I assume then to the right of me was a large dark oak vanity and dresser. I stood up groggily and sluggish and began to panic. I had been drugged. I don't know how, or when, but I had been, oh what the hell.

I shuffled to the dresser and opened it to find clothes of varying colors and cloths in my specific size. I gasped in wonder at all the wonderful choices I had. I ran my finger across it all and noticed this was only the undergarment drawer. It ranged from silks, to laces, to cottons. I opened the other drawers and they all looked the same all pallets of varying colors like a color wheel in my room. I went to shuffle towards the closet to see what could possibly await me there when I ran into a chest that I didn't know was at the foot of my bed. I winced in anger and slumped to floor.

I heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door and I braced myself for what may be behind it.

In walked Anthea, Mycroft's assistant clad in a dark snug dress with her dark tresses covering her face while she looked down at her phone intently.

"You all right?" she said to me. I nodded and picked myself up.

"She's awake." She said in the direction of the other room, yet not taking her eyes off her phone.

I gulped and realized I was incredibly parched. We must be in my new flat. But, I don't remember coming here.

I walked out of the room and gasped at the sight. The place was absolutely stunning. It was different shades of blues and purples and had trims of white which made the place look crisp overall, the place was modern, not something I would normally choose, but that was the point, wasn't it? The furniture was a charcoal gray and the tables were a mix of stainless steel and glass. I loved it all, but it would definitely take some getting used to.

"Well, good afternoon, Miss Hooper." Mycroft said to me cordially.

"Hello, Mycroft. Where's John?" I asked, my mind remembering this morning's events and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to him.

Mycroft looked at my puzzled. "What do you mean? He's on that triple murder case with Sherlock." He said to me standing up lightly.

"It's a two bedroom one and a half bath flat, I hope it is to your liking." Mycroft said as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Full kitchen, oh, and... thank you for the pastries." he said giving her his signature smile.

What did he mean still on the triple murder case? I just saw John and Sherlock this morning.

"What are you talking about? I just saw John this morning. He took me to Baker street and I saw Sherlock, and we talked, and..."

"Oh... I see." Mycroft simply stated.

"Well I don't. Mind explaining?" I said growing impatient.

"There was a risk... of Sherlock and John coming into town... yesterday morning." He began. My eyes were beginning to widen. What did he mean yesterday morning?

"I rang your door bell a few times, but I received no answer..." he continued. My heart started thumping harder in my chest. I assume my silence urged him to continue.

"We picked the lock at your door, and I found you having a severe dream. You were frantic and almost on the point of hysteria." Mycroft said as he fetched a cup of tea and surprisingly poured one for me. I treaded to the kitchen and sat at my now new kitchen table.

"So, I drugged you. Found it would make the move easier and would cause you less distress. Also, would make it easier for me as well." He finished almost plainly.

I stared blankly at him for a moment, disbelief in my face. Was this all really true? Had I really not seen Sherlock yesterday? Had he really _not_ kissed me? I tilted my head to mentally note that him not kissing me wasn't too far from the truth. I stared out the window onto the bustling city blow me. So I was in a high-rise flat, Mycroft picked everything I would never want, so of course Sherlock would never find me in a place so unlike myself and out of my comfort zone.

"So, then everything…" I began to speak.

"Every memory of the last twenty four hours is most likely a delusion made up by your subconscious, the side effect of the sedative that was administered to you." Mycroft looked at me almost sadly.

I let out a sigh and mentally thought to myself that of course it wasn't true. It was everything I had ever wanted to happen between Sherlock and I. Me saying goodbye, him actually caring, me growing a backbone and finally defending myself and him finally shedding that armor of his to let me into his heart. All of those things which will never happen.

I went to the new sofa in my new living room in my new flat and found it a bit overwhelming. I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt like a child who just went through their parents' divorce and didn't fully understand the concept of not living at home anymore. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts so I could gather everything inside me together and become the Molly I needed to become. I want to be strong.

_You have to be strong._

Exactly.

_If you every plan on being with him again._

"Or not." I finished my inner battle and gasped at my own rebuttal. I couldn't be mad at Sherlock for not actually kissing me like I thought, or not actually caring when he didn't even know I was gone in the first place. My anger was becoming misplaced and that would accomplish nothing.

"Your badge and new lab coat are together in your closet, Molly. The important things that you had at your flat you will find in the spare bedroom, but assume everything else of you is gone." Mycroft said to me and I nodded slowly looking out the balcony terrace from my seat. I bet the view is beautiful.

"I will be off then. I have a few other things to keep Sherlock busy, so he essentially won't know you are really gone until next week. Allowing you to have time to acclimate to your new surroundings before the man bombards you with ranting text messages." He dribbled out of his mouth condescendingly. He hated text messaging.

I nodded and felt a familiar warmness on my lap as I suddenly saw Toby appear, then look up to me and meow. I cried. Leave it to my bloody cat to make me cry. I picked him up and cuddled him softly against me, trying to maintain whatever contact I have with the life I had just left behind a day ago.

The day seemed to go by in a blur. I began feeling better as the side effects of the sedation seemed to rapidly decrease, and I could tell that, now being more coherent and aware, that everything I thought happened to me yesterday, was indeed a delusion.

It only made me feel more pathetic.

Would that ever end?

I sighed and went to immaculate kitchen and popped a TV dinner into the microwave. While I waited for that to finish, I decided to take a stroll around the apartment.

It was amazing. What Mycroft forgot to mention, was that it was a two bedroom flat _with a den_. Which he took upon himself to buy me the outlets of my favorite hobbies. I almost cried from the thoughtfulness.

There was a cello in the right corner, a gorgeous cherry color and all I wanted to do was run my hands across those strings. A computer in the other corner, for work I assume, and I could also write, one of my other favorite hobbies. In the middle of the den there was a tarp on the floor. I almost groaned at the thought of having to clean it up, but there was something being covered by a sheet there. I walked to the middle of the room and pulled the sheet off gently and gasped in surprise.

In the middle of the den stood a wonderfully solid wood easel with a beautiful painting sitting atop the frame. The painting was a copy; of course, I looked at it and saw that it was a modern piece, filled with hues of blue and purple. Along with that were shots of wondrous sea foam green color in swirls and lines. It was such a beautifully unique piece, and somehow made me feel at home.

I took the not attached to the wonderful canvas painting, and opened it.

_Dear Molly, _

_ I know Sherlock can be a git, so I understand why you left. I feel sorry _

_Though that he did not see you off. Part of me thinks he would've been proud _

_of your decision. I saw this painting at a local Art Show I took Sarah to see and _

_had to buy it for you. I knew all of this would be hard, and I thought you may _

_need something that may remind you of home. When I saw the painting, It _

_reminded me of Sherlock, so, I knew it would remind you of him too. I want _

_you to know we are here for you, when you come back, and he will be too. _

_He will be mad for a bit, but only cause he'll miss you, and I'll miss you too. _

_I just thought you needed something to remind you of why you are doing this. _

_I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye, but I know one man who will be even sorrier _

_that he didn't get to either. Know that he will find out, He will brood and fuss and _

_play sad concertos for days possibly and will stay awake all hours of the night trying _

_to find cases to solve, but will respect your decision. That's what he does. Just come _

_back when you know you need to Molly, and we'll all be here waiting. _

_ See you soon, _

_ John_

I cried. I laughed and then cried again, I was a mess. Of course John did this for me. Who else would even be able to have the emotions capable of knowing how I could possibly feel right now? Certainly not the Holmes brothers.

The painting was beautiful, and indeed did remind me of Sherlock, the dark swirls of color reminded me of the wispiness of his coat and the curls of his hair, and the greens and blues reminded me of his wonderful piercing eyes. It made me cry all over again, but a good cry. I knew exactly where this would go.

I went to get my now semi-warm meal out of the microwave and sat on the sofa and watched a bit of telly. As I ate, my phone chirped next to me, which only made Toby squirm. I looked at the phone curiously and smiled brightly at who it was contacting me.

**Hello Molly, I hope the move went well.**

**JW**

I instantly became a little lighter at the revelation that most likely John would maintain some sort of minimal contact. I texted him back quickly.

**As well as it could go involving a Holmes brother. Haha**

**Mollyx**

I finished and sent off my text then placed the phone down next to me while I took another bite of my meal. The phone went off again and it was just doing everything to not be giddy at the contact of people whom I thought I wouldn't talk to for so long.

**We're heading back to Baker street tomorrow. Sherlock **

**wants to run samples at Bart's, of course.**

**JW**

I instantly gulped. I became anxious and tried thinking over various scenarios of what could possibly happen at the morgue without me there. At that thought, I immediately thought of Jennifer and I felt like someone punched my gut. I knew that feeling, jealousy. I was jealous that another, more petite and beautiful blonde woman would be helping _My_ Sherlock in _My_ morgue. It almost made me want to dash back to my old dingy flat. _Almost._

I quickly typed a reply and tried not to seem bothered by the entire situation, which I'm sure John doesn't need to be Sherlock to know that it is indeed bothering me.

**Oh, well of course. He always stops by after a crime out of town. **

**Better now than later for him to meet Jennifer, I'm sure they'll get along.**

**Mollyx**

My heart raced and my emotions sank to the depths of my soul. I didn't want to think that Sherlock could easily replace me with some blonde bimbo in a lab coat. I covered my mouth at such thoughts, who knew I could be so jealous? But it wasn't just Sherlock she took from me, it was my life, my morgue and watching his brilliance when he sauntered into that lab like he owned the place, barking orders like he was the boss and the only thing you could do was heel. My thoughts went off to a time when I first met Sherlock and experienced this first hand. I became giddy with excitement, knowing I was a part of something so crucial to him like a case, it made me feel like I mattered, and it lifted me up so much, but not before he confused me with LeStrade, this was before John came along. I popped out of my reverie after hearing the familiar chirp of my phone.

**I do not look forward to that meeting, that's all I'm going to say. **

**JW**

I laughed out loud at his response. Part of me wished I could be a fly on the wall when Sherlock waltzed into that lab only to be confronted by a small woman who was not me. Would he be surprised? Angry? Would it even faze him? Part of me hoped it would, but my self-conscious mind told me he would probably be happy to find someone that was not Molly Hooper in the lab. _'less babbling and stammering'_ I'm sure he'd say. I sighed.

**What I would give to be a fly on the wall.**

**Mollyx**

I finished eating my mediocre meal and mentally made a note that I would make dinner after work tomorrow evening, I allowed Toby back on my lap and began petting him absently waiting for John's reply.

**Probably not, knowing Sherlock he'd catch the fly and **

**experiment on it. **

**JW**

It was then that I bellowed with laughter. I couldn't even wrap my head around how true John's statement could be, it was too much! I looked at the clock and noticed it was past 8:30. I wasn't tired, but I wanted some time to myself to think. I needed to plan what my day would be like tomorrow, in such a new place with all new people. An entirely new department, only for a short time though. I would keep telling myself. I would eventually go back. I would have to. I would miss everyone far too much.

I told John I was tired and would be off to bed, even though I wasn't, so I could take some time to scour around my new flat. I have to admit it is an amazing place. I went out on the terrace and gasped at the view. I seemed to have been moved to downtown London, surprising to say the least. The hospital wasn't too far from here and was only about fifteen minutes from St. Bart's. I sighed sadly. It would be so easy to just walk there from here. Was that Mycroft's intention when getting me this specific flat? To test my resolve? To make sure that I really did indeed want to try and have a life without Sherlock in it?

I scowled and ran off to the bathroom to shower, and then sadly, since I have no life… sleep.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

I apparently started my shift at nine. I woke up at 7:30 and decided to take another shower since I began sweating in my sleep last night. I grabbed what I intended to wear and headed off to the shower.

I wish I could say I had an easy rest, but then I'd be lying. I tossed and turned all night waking in and out of sleep probably from the new place, and the thoughts going through my mind. I kept thinking of Sherlock and his curls, his eyes and his stoic expression. What I would do to see a genuine smile emit from those perfect lips. I sighed as I washed the shampoo from my hair.

I had no idea what to expect as I readied myself for work. I stepped out of the shower and blow-dried my short hair, putting a silver clip with blue stones in it to hold the one side of my hair back. I wore a light white blouse and a pale blue skirt with a pair of nude colored heels. I applied a little mineral make- up, neutrals to make it look more natural and walked to my bedroom to grab my new lab coat and badge from the closet.

I stopped at the floor length mirror that was behind my door before I decided to leave. I looked myself up and down satisfied with what I chose for the day, but nonetheless, I didn't recognize the woman in front of me. It was like She kicked out Molly Hooper and this other _woman_ took over. The thought of this was both exciting and frightening at the same time.

I grabbed one of the many winter coats Mycroft stocked my place with, an ivory peacoat and my trusty tote along with my new ivory purse to match. I felt uncomfortable with how I looked and almost scoffed at myself.

_It's January! What on EARTH are you thinking?! Wearing a skirt? Who are you trying to impress?!_

Oh, no.

No… no no no no…

I now know where my mousy Molly had gone. She now became the conscience that I was beginning to hate. So, does that mean… the new Molly I had unleashed upon myself, as well as the world… was she the Molly I had kept locked up inside? The one I had always never listened to, because she was not proper and could be rude and insulting?

I felt even worse for my old self. The world didn't think Mousy Molly Hooper was good enough, so much so that Mousy Molly herself pushed that timid shy and stammering girl into the darkness. It hurt knowing the full ramifications of my actions. Knowing that, just like the rest of the world, I too had shut the door on myself to make me into something bigger and better instead of just accepting who I was and moving on.

I took the elevator down to the lobby and took in the lavishness of it all. I held back a gasp at the picture in front of me. Mirrors and gold trimming graced the walls of the hi-rise and the environment made me even more uncomfortable, because I know I didn't belong here.

I decided to grab a taxi and would walk the way home later. I wanted to be early so that anything that may need to be taken care of may be done.

The drive only took about 10 minutes with London traffic. I walked into the hospital, which was a little less modern than Bart's and I instantly became sad. I would miss my instruments and my equipment so much. I walked through the lobby and spotted a familiar face.

Mary, A petite blonde with short hair and piercing blue eyes stood there in her scrubs waving me over. My eyes brightened at the sight of her. I haven't seen the girl in months, my best friend. It took everything in me to not run to her. I hugged her quickly and pecked her on each cheek. We held hands like giddy school girls back from break and she was the first to speak.

"Molly! Look at you girl! I love the hair!" Mary beamed. I just smiled sheepishly. Nothing I could say would be anything new for Mary. She was a beautiful woman. She was curvy, but not overly so and always dressed to impress. She was wearing her scrubs, since being on shift; but even then you could tell she even took her time in choosing what scrubs to dirty. She had a short aline bob hair cut that stopped right at her jaw. Her hair was the usual bright blonde, but the natural brown was starting to show at the roots, so she'll go in for a touch up soon, I'm sure.

"Aw, thank you Mary. You look beautiful as always." I smiled. Mary waved me off and took me to the morgue. Despite my qualms I was pleasantly surprised to see that the toxicology lab was completely stocked and had the most up to date equipment. My mind went to the elusive Mycroft, but he wouldn't go that far… would he? I had to bite back a smirk.

I was introduced to my temporary new boss, Matt Saunders. He explained to me that the transfer was only temporary, and that it was just to help them in the transition since Bart's will be more than capable…(right). So then, I assume my new boss has no idea that this was all orchestrated for me, interesting.

I sat in what was my now new office which was spotless and had no signs of ever occupying anyone before me, but I knew that couldn't be true. I sat down at my desk and logged on to my computer. There weren't any autopsies pending, which was refreshing. I think jumping into something like that on the first day, and not knowing your surroundings can be kind of daunting.

The day went slow; I became quite depressed and found myself wondering what could possibly be happening at Bart's right now. I tried not thinking about it as I packed my things to leave for the day. I told Mary I'd meet her upstairs in the lobby and that I'd walk her to the tube on my way home.

Mary and I decided to stop for a cup of coffee on the way to the tube, and stayed for a bit. We caught up on life, Mary was single, again… but that never really lasted long. She wasn't surprised that I was as well, she knew I was shy; but she was surprised that I did all of this to get away from a certain consulting detective. She smiled brightly and encouraged my growth as the new Molly Hooper. Good, I'd need all the help and encouragement I could get.

We left the shop and said our goodbyes at the tube stop as I waved her off and promised to do lunch tomorrow. The walk home was nice. It was a brisk evening, but nothing unbearable, and the snow from Christmas and the New Year was melting. I made it home in about ten minutes and took the elevator upstairs. I almost forgot which one was my flat but it came to me quickly. Address 2221 B, Oh how clever you could be Mycroft.

I hung my coat up and went straight to the kitchen to put on a pot of water for some pasta I decided to make. While that heated up I ran to the bathroom to shower and change. I came back with a lovely pair of red silk pajamas, and a light pink cami top. As soon as I came to the pot of water it was boiling, so I threw in the pasta and took some vegetables out of the freezer and steamed them in the microwave. I was having vegetable fettuccine alfredo.

Before eating I made sure to feed Toby, who was indeed well and surly hungry. I petted the space between both his ears as he began purring, I laughed to myself.

I decided that music would suffice for the evening. I always enjoyed listening to concertos. Something I'm sure Sherlock would appreciate, or at least be surprised to learn. There I was, thinking about him again, I had done so well. I went to the kitchen to drain the pasta and take the vegetables out of the microwave. I placed it all in the pot and added the alfredo sauce, this dish was simple and delicious, my favorite kind of meal. I smiled and went to grab a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Mycroft must've noticed my obsession with wines, because he installed a small wine bar in the kitchen for me. I almost became overwhelmed with excitement. Goodness.

I went to my dining table and plopped down. I decided to put some cello music on, Yo-Yo- Ma, One of my favorite cellists of all time. His work was amazing and it relaxed me completely. I sat there and ate while Toby sat at my feet nuzzling. I suddenly felt alone. So, so alone. More alone than I had ever felt before. It was like the world was crashing down around me at the thought of it. My brain could hardly process what was going on in my mind. Tears fell down my cheeks without me even realizing it. I wasn't sad, not really. I wasn't mad… sometimes when I become angry I cry from all of the emotions. I was alone.

I wonder if Sherlock ever felt alone. I took a sip of my wine and thought about this. I wonder if sadness ever consumed him? I knew hatred and annoyance did, but pure hatred? I wonder if that happened to him? I pondered all of these questions in my head, and before I knew it I was finished my meal. I packed away the leftovers and texted Mary to see if she'd like me to bring it for lunch tomorrow, it would save money, and the food wouldn't be wasted. She happily said yes and wished me a good night. She said she had a date she was going on tonight with a guy she met today at a shop downtown. I smiled and texted her back.

**You work quickly, Ms. Morstan. Haha What does **

**he look like? What's he like?**

**Mollyx**

I asked in anticipation. I loved when Mary got excited about men, it was difficult for them to keep her attention, as so many had fought for said attention, she had the pickins' of them so to speak. She texted me back quickly.

**Oh, he's sweet, Moll. Not too tall though, Blonde hair**

**Brown eyes, said he was a soldier, was injured in action.**

**Oh, I can't wait for you to meet him!**

**MMxxx**

She sounded so happy. I sent her another text and waited for her reply.

**Okay, wonderful! What does he do? Does this elusive man**

**Have a name? ;)**

**Mollyx**

I laughed at my cleverness. Sherlock would've scoffed it off and told me not to make jokes, I scowled at the thought of his insults. Just as quickly as I sent mine, Mary shot her text back, and what I saw… it took everything in me to not scream to all the Fates at the luck I have.

**He's a doctor, An army one…work's at a clinic. Oh, and **

**His name? Is John, John Watson.**

**MMxxx**

Of course. Of course it is… Oh, my life. I groaned and stomped my feet towards my bedroom, but not without grabbing my bottle of Pinot Grigio first.

"I'll have to remember to thank Mycroft later…" I said aloud, and at that my phone dinged.

**You're quite welcome, Miss Hooper. **

**Mycroft Holmes **

My life!

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**HEY EVERYONE! I am soooooo incredibly sorry this took so long to upload, but I certainly hope you enjoy it! Please… PLEASE read and review! I will love you all forever! Thanks so much! :D**


	7. Chapter 7 - Blinded by the Light

**Chapter 7**

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and kind words, they really do mean so much to me! They keep me going! :D I really do hope you enjoy this story**

**Here it is! the moment you've been waiting for! **

**Now on with it! _**

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. 's POV.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

This murder investigation is taking longer than necessary. We have been here for four bloody days! Every time I think the case is closed, something else pops up—but not today.

I went down to the tiny building that the town folk seemed so adamant to call a police 'station'. I would say it more resembled a police 'cupboard'; I smirked at my own cleverness.

John followed me, of course. He even seemed to be growing impatient of this town and its people himself. I walked to the 'station' and went to speak to the detective. The only one in this town, he made Lestrade look good, that's how awful this man possibly was. Although to be fair, Lestrade was one of the few decent DI's in the Yard.

Somehow, my brother believed that me solving this triple murder case was of 'national importance'. I scoffed at the idea of how mundane this case actually was. I wouldn't be here if Mycroft hadn't quite literally thrown John and I into his sleek car and drove us all the way to Dorset. I groaned at the constant inconvenient truth of Mycroft being my brother. I felt like literally throwing myself against the wall to just watch myself slide down from it dramatically and time how long it would take me to plop upon the floor.

I wanted to go back to Baker street to work on my experiments, in my kitchen, in my flat alone. I wanted to be in front of my microscope and watch what chemicals break down first after being exposed to another chemical of my fancy. I want to actually take up _important_ cases that could race through my mind and have excitement fill me from the chase, but no, I am stuck doing my brother's bidding in Dorset.

My eyes almost popped wide at remembering the hand that I had left in the refrigerator to test the decomposition on a hand from a lesion that I made, a hand that Molly so willing provided me with. I just hoped that nothing spread throughout the refrigerator, or worse, that Mrs. Hudson had thrown it away. I gave John an innocent glance, in anticipation for the yelling that would obviously happen upon arriving at Baker street to whatever that hand may look like now. Decomposition has surly taken effect, I'm certain, and John would be bouncing off the walls in anger making sure I would clean the refrigerator spotless until I could see my reflection. Better be nice now as to soften the blow.

When I reached Detective Payne's desk, I eyed him up deducing him accordingly. It was what I did, after all. Late forties, in surprisingly good shape by the look of his physique. Was a vegetarian, worked out at the gym two, no three times a week and had a mild blood pressure problem, probably from what little stress he could receive in what seemed to be the absolutely _boring_ job of being a detective in this town. Living here would drive me mad. Had recently separated from his girlfriend, long –term it seemed, still coping with being single, drinks on Friday's with 'the boy's' and tries not to fall in a state of depression. I could barely blame him, I would too if I had such a boring life.

"Detective Payne, I have done all I could possibly do for this case, I'm sorry, but I do not believe that I can assist you any further." I said to the detective while popping up the collar of my Belstaff motioning towards the door.

"But, Mr. Holmes, you have to help me! Your brother said this was of national importance!" He almost begged me. I strode toward him ready to go on a rant when I noticed a picture frame on his desk.

"Boyfriend! Dammit, always something." I hissed out to only look up and see John snickering. He lived for those moments, apparently.

I walked towards my blogger again, this time with purpose. I would brush the detective off and walk out of this office with purpose, then have my brother send someone _else_ in to do his bidding, I was growing rather tired of it.

"Come along, John." I said to him almost impatiently. I wanted out of this town, and fast. He looked at me mouth agape at my choice, I can only deduce. Yet, that didn't explain the fearful look upon his face.

"But Sherlock, the case isn't finished, we need to finish it." John almost pleaded. I looked at him fully taking in his expression and attitude towards me. I waved off his qualms impassively.

"Not my problem, John, Mycroft can send one of his other people to do his bidding. I have things to attend to at Baker street." I began. "Unless you wish to have a biohazard in our kitchen." I smirked at him. He still seemed persistent on staying, but anger was lingering in his features.

"You're shuffling, John. Averting your eyes and fumbling with your hands. Your breathing has become more erratic and your nerves are on edge." I concluded while circling around my flat mate.

"Wh—what?" He fumbled out of his mouth. I saw him hiss at his mistake. I smiled smugly at his obvious omission.

"You're hiding something from me, John. What is it? What could possibly be—oh." I said while the realization dawned on me.

I pulled out my mobile and pressed the call button waiting for the recipient to pick up on the other end.

"_What is it dear brother? Still on the case, I presume?"_ Mycroft said into the phone, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well _Hello_ brother. I assume you would know, since you for some reason are trying to keep me out of London. There is no way this case should take long, and it is by far nothing of _'__national importance'_."I seethed. "You do know, I do have an _actual _job to do, with _important _cases brother." I was furious.

"_I'm quite surprised it took you this long to know I had a little plot in all of this."_ I could hear him smirking on the other end. I growled.

"I am leaving, NOW Mycroft, and you will stop tampering with the evidence and allow the case to be closed." I said while simultaneously hanging up my mobile. I hated talking on the phone.

"Come John. And we will talk about this later." I scowled. What in the world could they be hiding from me? It was driving me mad, but it'll be a new case for me to solve.

As if on cue a helicopter was sent for us, which I was inwardly grateful for. I most certainly did not feel like taking a two and a half hour ride back from Dorset, the drama of the situation would've worn off by then.

We arrived back in London close to an hour later. I went to catch a cab to see John come inside with me.

"I'm not going to Baker street, John." I said absently. I could see the look he was given me, but I ignored it.

"Where are you going then?" He looked apprehensive. I quirked my head to the side. What in the world was he hiding?

"I'm going to Bart's, can't wait. I have some time-sensitive things I would like to do, and they need to be performed immediately." I stated while turning to face him quickly, only to just as quick turn my head to look out the window.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sherlock." John said carefully. So, it was about Bart's then. Interesting, John can be so transparent at times.

"And why is that?" I said to him smirking. He became uneasy again… "Really, John? If you're hiding something, please do try a little harder to conceal it." I said to him smugly. John looked at me and his anger seemed to come back even stronger.

"Fine Sherlock, fine. Go to Bart's you haven't been there in a while. I'm sure Molly missed you." John said to me chiding.

I scoffed him off and then chuckled heartily. "Please John, of course she did, she's probably anxiously awaiting my arrival so that she may give me more parts." I said sure of myself.

Molly loved when I came around, it was difficult though, she was always fumbling, humming while working and could be quite smothering, it was irritating, but I did enjoy her company at times, when she was quiet and when she would give me spare body parts, that was always a nice perk to our… association with one another. I smirked at myself looking forward to being behind Bart's microscope again, and frankly, I had missed Molly's coffee.

John and I walked into Bart's and went straight to the morgue. I knew Molly would most likely find my collections promising and would fumble her way about trying to impress me and make room for me in the lab. I smiled broadly at what awaited me behind those familiar steel doors.

"Ah, Molly! I—" I sauntered in with purpose but then stopped on a dime. Did I walk into a different lab? Did I walk into an entirely different hospital altogether? Was there more than one St. Bart's hospital? No… of course there wasn't, but there I stood right by the doorframe as stiff as steel looking at a woman who wasn't Molly.

"You're not Molly." I said trying to add as much venom to my voice as possible. I saw John looking at me pensively. I would kill him for whatever he thought he got over on me.

"Quite right." The young woman said. She walked up to me outstretching her hand in greeting. I looked at it offensively. Molly knew not to shake my hand. I hated social cues. This woman was a little taller than my normal pathologist, she had long blonde hair and blue eyes, but they were contacts, her real eyes were hazel, just like her real hair color wasn't blonde. She was thin and athletic, possibly worked out on a regular basis, but the posture she held was one not of a doctor, but more resembled the air in which John carried himself. _So military background then._ I thought. I suppose it made sense, She was a sugar fanatic, I thought Molly liked sugar, but this woman was far beyond anything Molly had ever shown appreciation for. She made it known to the world having her candies strewn on the counter tops and I visibly scrunched my face. Molly wouldn't allow that, work space was for work only, aside from the exception of coffee and or tea.

I looked around and audibly groaned.

"John Watson." I heard John say in the back of my mind. I was still taking in how much had changed in the little time I had not been here. Had Molly done some early Spring cleaning of sorts? Also, why did she need an assistant? It frustrated me that she did not check with me first with the new arrangements. I would have to learn where everything was all over again and she knew I hated wasting time, as well as space in my mind palace. I became more and more frustrated.

"I'm Jennifer by the way." The woman said and I shot daggers in her direction. I did not like people in my lab, in Molly's lab. She had to be the reason the lab looked the way it did, Molly would never do something so drastic without consulting me first.

"Sherlock Holmes." I said absently as I began moving further through the lab a surprise at every step, I swore I even ran into a table or two, this is no good, I'll have to map out the lab all over again.

I walked even further to the slabs and saw my trusty microscope. I let out a sigh of relief at seeing it on the table. It was not where I had typically kept it, but I'm partially glad Molly didn't rid me of it. She always complained about it being old, and that she wanted to replace it, but I never would allow something so insane. I knew every single part of that microscope and how to move it just right, I will be dammed if I were to get rid of it.

"Oh, like the microscope? You can take it if you'd like. Getting a new one tomorrow, very excited." The woman known as Jennifer said. I stopped straight and forced myself to turn around to look her in the face and dare her to say something as preposterous as getting rid of my microscope to my face.

I was happy that I seemed to cause her some discomfort from my gaze. Molly would explain to her how things in the lab would be and she would end up not being a problem, I'll barely know she's here.

"So, where's Molly? Has the night off does she? Good for her." I tried to say in what John would call a 'socially acceptable' tone. Yet all I received in reply was a look of confusion on the woman's face. She almost stepped back in disbelief. I didn't understand what would've caused her to behave in such a way. I looked behind me to make sure no one was there, and when there wasn't I turned around and quirked my brow at her.

"Problem?" I said to her almost biting my words. This woman was going to test my patience for sure. I will have to speak to Molly to make sure she isn't working here while on my cases. I don't have the time to deal with this woman.

"I don't understand what you mean…" The woman said to me walking closer which caused me to step back. I looked around once more to see why the woman would be so confused. When I noticed something… something important, extremely important, and my stomach began to fill with a feeling of panic. _Panic?_ For _what?_

Molly's lab coat wasn't on the coat hook.

"Well, a perfectly good explanation…" I began mumbling as I strode towards Molly's office.

"Sherlock, Don't!" John almost shouted to me, I looked back impatiently at what could the problem be going into Molly's office, she allowed me inside frequently, since it was a good place for me to think.

As I opened the doors, I swore, that if I had a heart, it would've stopped.

The room was not its cozy colors of pink Molly enjoyed so much with her comfortable couch in the corner, but a stark white with crisp new file folders stacked upon a white sofa that I have never seen before, but was obviously put there for show, No one would sit on it. The desk was new, not the worn oak that Molly's once was, it was a dark mahogany and steel combination. Looking into this room made me want to hurl on everything and its contents. I turned around swiftly stalking up to the woman in question, my face merely inches away from hers.

"Where's Molly…" I said pronunciating every word that spit forth from my mouth. I didn't care about social formalities now, it took every fiber of my being to not throw everything that was on the counters and in shelves on the floor. I did not know this place, It was alien to me.

"I will say it again, since you must be s_pectacularly _deaf!" I screamed at her only centimeters from her face and I saw her eyes bulge out, the same ones of the fake blue. This close and I could see her so many imperfections. He eyes were hazel, she didn't like it, she thought the color too plain. He face has scars from acne, so she wears liquid make-up to hide her many imperfections. Her hair a stark blonde and her figure too perfect to be her own. I growled in frustration. This was not my pathologist. This was not my Molly! I spun and stopped abruptly. What had I just thought? She is in no way shape or form mine, I don't even want her. Where did that come from?

"She was transferred to another hospital sir, she told me to tell you not to worry, that you have the usual access you had before, and I am more than willing to help you when needed." He voice changed to what she thought was seductive, I only found the woman more annoying and unbearable. I ran to the nearest table and slammed my hands upon it. I looked straight at John who averted his gaze from me. I stood up straighter, the whole scene sinking into my mind. Of course… _Of course._

"You knew." I stated simply. It was not a question, I wish it were, because then there could be the chance that he actually didn't know, but he didn't even have to utter a word before I looked away hissing at his omission.

"You knew… Which meant Mycroft knew as well. The both of you. How brilliant. How _fantastically_ brilliant!" I bellowed through the lab.

"Thank goodness we can't wake anyone up." John almost laughed at my anger.

"You see?! This is when Molly would tell a boring, annoying or inappropriate joke, now who will do that, You?!"" I looked at the woman as she flinched under my gaze. I could tell my smile was a mocking one.

"Just so you know, do not think that for one second that you will be replacing Molly Hooper. That, woman; will never happen, and do you know why?" I asked, I had a crazed look in my eyes, I knew it, my mind was working into overdrive, there was too much information to process and I didn't have enough energy to do so at the moment but this woman had to know that she would not be welcomed, that she was stepping on already claimed territory and that I did not like it, not one bit.

"Why is that sir?" She peeped out of her mouth, frightened at my temper. My smile only grew wider.

"Because, no one, not one damn person can replace Molly Hooper. Especially _You_." She looked at me eyes wide and I began to see water form at the corners of her eyes. Good. This would've been when Molly would've stormed out of the lab for saying such cruel things and I would've actually felt a pang of guilt in my chest. But not today. Not this time. I relished in the pain I caused this woman whom I had only met maybe twenty minutes ago it seemed. Because of her Molly isn't here, and I would never forgive the woman for causing such chaos In my life.

My smile grew wider and I sauntered out of the morgue, John following close behind.


	8. Chapter 8: Reunited and it Feels So Good

**Chapter 8 **

**First off. THANK YOU ALL SOOOOO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR WONDERFULLY KIND WORDS! They made me beyond happy, you have no idea! _**

**MorbidbyDefault:** I love how you get sooo excited! Thank you! Hahaha don't fret! I will have Sherlolly-ness I promise! It's what I do! :D

**Poodle warriors:** haha I guess so, I feel like he only knows how to behave like a child so overly dramatic that it becomes comical, picturing such a man in a way makes me giggle. Haha

**Niafadra:** Thank you sooo much! I really appreciate it! I had to bring out the cruel Sherlock, he only shows when he doesn't know how to handle a situation I think so anyway. And I felt it was his way of channeling how he truly felt of the situation. He's not good with emotions after all. Thanks! :D

**Diamond07:** hah! Touchee! I love writing about him deducing, I think it's so much fun to do. I try to do it as often as I can without doing it overly so. Thanks so much! :D

**Rocking the Redhead:** Indeed John will! Muhahaha! Hahaha I know he hates change so I certainly had to emphasize it, thank you! :D

**Guest:** He can be a brat, but I think it makes him endearing! Haha and we'll have to see what's next in store for him! :D Thank you!

**4May:** hahaha We'll see! I love childish Sherlock, one of my guilty pleasures I suppose! Hahaha

**Louvreangel:** I'm sooo glad you agree! I couldn't wait to write this chapter, I found it so much fun, and incredibly revealing. :D

**Edwardita:** Bah! Don't feel pity for Jennifer! Hahaha I kid, I kid… She just happened to be in the path of the hurricane that is Sherlock. And thank you so much! I'm glad! I hope I didn't bombard you with all my emotions! Haha

**Dani c : **Thank you so much! I am incredibly flattered! :D

The ride back to Baker street was silent. It better be silent. I thought he was going to be mad about the hand in the refrigerator, now I was glad it would be there, maybe I'll even hide it in his bedroom somewhere. The damn _bastard_.

We walked upstairs to the flat to be greeted by Mrs. Hudson which in turn I told her it would be wise to leave for a while and possibly come back later. John and I had some things to discuss.

I took off my Belstaff and scarf and plopped into my leather chair. John stood there eyeing me carefully and all I wanted to do was burst.

"Problem, John? Don't you wish to sit down? It has been a rather long day." I said to him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now look Sherlock—"

"No, you look." I said, my voice demanding. "What would ever make you possibly think that you could hide something as apparent as Molly not working at Bart's anymore is beyond me…" I continued, "But, _please_… do try and explain wonderfully how you thought I wouldn't notice an absolutely daft woman running that lab and turning it upside down?!" I stood from my seat hands planted on each arm rest to keep me from falling over in anger.

I saw John's face harden and I smirked. He should have a taste at how I was feeling right now. I didn't even fully understand what I was feeling at the moment. I was angry, insulted, baffled, confused and even _hurt_? I was hurt that my pathologist was taken away from me it seemed. And there it goes again… when did she suddenly become _My _pathologist? I would store that in my mind palace and visit later.

"She's gone because of _you_… you _git._" John said carefully. His voice became deeper and I know my face held emotions that John was not used to seeing. I flinched back as if he slapped me in the face with those words. What did he mean she was gone because of me? What could that even mean? Molly loved me, quite literally, so why would she bother to leave a place she loved when she often got to see the man she swooned over on numerous occasions?

"What do you mean _me_?" I spit at him. I would never cause Molly Hooper to leave the place she loves. I would never be the cause, and then that be the effect of it. It just wasn't possible, John was wrong.

"Have a nice Christmas then? Did you have fun at the Christmas party? I heard Molly had a _smashing _time." He said to me with such sarcasm that I looked at him surprised for only a second then back to my mask. Then it dawned on me. When had I become so… so stupid?

I looked away from John's face and hissed at my antics. I knew what I said was wrong and I acted like a complete arse that night, thus my apology. I sincerely meant apologizing to Molly, because I may not feel many things, but I knew seeing her like that, and knowing I was the cause did not sit well with me. If it were any other thing, I would've brushed it off and told her to not worry, but this was _sentiment_, something I knew Molly held dear, and I tore it to shreds in front of her and everyone.

I sat in my chair and grabbed my violin and began rosining my bow, trying to focus on something other than a crying Molly in my head.

"If you weren't such a git all the time, she may still be here…"

"Shut up John! Why didn't you tell me?! I could've tried to rectify things if I were aware of the situation and Mycroft… Ohh bloody Mycroft, my dear, dear _brother._ Of course he had something to do with this! Probably found the replacement as well? He obviously did a horrible job!" I spat out abandoning my previous activity and went to the kitchen to grab the brandy John thought I didn't know about. I will only drink this because it's higher quality than what the man normally buys, hence it being hidden.

"Wh—what do you think you're doing?" John asked me. I didn't know he was blind as well as stupid.

"What does it look like, John? I'm having a glass of brandy. Would you rather me rummage around the flat for my emergency pack? I'd prefer not to fall off the wagon, thank you. This will suffice." I took a long sip of the amber liquid and relished in the pain it caused my throat, the familiar stinging pain in my throat, just like when I would take my first drag of a cigarette. No. I will not think about it, I went cold turkey. No exceptions, not even for _this_.

I needed to not think, I didn't need to stimulate my mind, I needed to forget the events of the last twenty four hours instead. I would wake up tomorrow morning and I would go to Bart's to find Molly there fumbling with her words just trying to say hello to me, a slight blush will creep up her face and her eyes will sparkle, like they always did when she looked at me. She would never want to miss out on that feeling. This is some sort of weird delusion from lack of sleep or something. Quite right, I haven't had a good night's sleep in over 72 hours. Surly that had something to do with it.

If only what my subconscious was trying to make up for me to cope with the situation wasn't the only delusion in my head, I might not need the second glass of brandy.

"Can I know where she is?" I looked to John. He looked at me with a surprised look on my face. Right. Forgot the effects of alcohol consumption, lowered inhibitions, so I was probably more expressive than John had ever seen me, and I think I might have frightened him. If this were a little under an hour ago, I would smirk at the events, but alas, I am almost ashamed for allowing my body to feel. _Why must you always betray me?!_ My mind thought.

"Well… no. That would defeat Molly's whole purpose of leaving in the first place." John said to me and I glared at him for denying me such a simple request, like seeing my pathologist.

"So that's what happened on Christmas then, with you and Molly… and that's why you saw her the next day… to talk to her and Mycroft. Of course!" I said standing up from my chair in frustration of the events unfolding before me.

"Always something!" I chastised myself out loud to only get a snarky reply from my flat mate.

"Molly always seems to be the something you miss." John said to me with a grin spreading across his face.

I snapped my head back towards him, surprised he'd make such a comment.

"What are you implying?" I asked as I moved to the kitchen, to sit in front of my microscope. I sat there for only about ten seconds before I got up slamming my hands defiantly on the table at how doing my work only reminded me the state of St. Bart's lab and the absence of a very light brunette petite pathologist.

_What one earth?_ I quirked my head to the side of my thought processes. Why on earth was I thinking of Molly Hooper in such a manner? She was my pathologist—a pathologist I mean, whom I worked with in the lab. I never noticed her light brown wavy hair and how I liked it parted to the side, or when she put it in a ponytail, how she always missed a few strands which then would cause her to constantly have to swipe the hair behind her ear, or her brown eyes which were the color of hazelnuts, or how naturally pink her lips were. No, I did not notice these things. I would not notice these things, I never noticed these things.

Yet, here I am… noticing them.

I sighed exasperated, trying to focus on anything, _anything_ other than the apparent truth that Molly was gone. Molly being gone affected me worse than I thought it would.

"I'm going to sleep." I said shortly and began walking to my bedroom.

"Just say it, Sherlock…" I heard John say from behind me.

"Say what, John?" I asked genuinely curious as to what he was getting at.

"That you miss her. You miss Molly. Also, you regret being such a sod to her, so you feel guilty and miss her. Just say it." John called to me.

I stood straighter and thought about this for a moment. Had I missed, Molly Hooper? I don't _miss_ anyone, maybe mummy, but that's different. I don't truly understand the longing affection of missing. I reason that missing mummy is just an instinctual impulse of a mother and her young, but missing Molly? Do I? For the third time tonight, it seemed, I quirked my head to the side. I thought about this for a moment. I suppose you could call what I feel at the moment _missing_ but it is solely due to the fact that I now have to train a new pathologist all over again. Yes, made perfect logical sense. I was a man of habit and I hated change, Molly leaving was a change, a drastic change. Why was it drastic? I would have to think on that later. Either way, this was my explanation for the reason my mind seemed so muddled with rampant thoughts of my pathologist. There I go again. She is in no way, shape or form mine, especially now.

_Thanks to you, you sod._

_Oh, will just shut up?! _

My mind rarely revolted, but here it was showing conflict at what I was truly facing with. I refused to think that a woman like Molly Hooper had weaseled her way into my mind, and even my _heart._ Oh dear god, the thought of having something there shook me out of the tirade I was having with myself. I looked at John and put on the most stoic expression I could muster.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, John. Goodnight." I said as I began to walk once more to my bedroom.

I refuse to admit that I have feelings. Yet, there it was in my mind, as blinding as the sparkling eyes of my pathologist.

_I miss Molly. _

Ugh, it would be a long night. I plopped down to my bed in hopes of some remnants of sleep.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-Molly's POV.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It's been almost three months while in my new position and I could sadly say it's been quite uneventful. I have an assistant named Thomas, He's nice enough, but I apparently make him nervous. I was surprised at this fact, since I am not very intimidating, not in the slightest. Normally people would be the one's making me nervous. I suppose I have changed quite a bit in my demeanor.

I took up some yoga classes which proved to be fun, I have toned up much more than I thought I would've and I have more energy than I have had in ages. My eyes showed bright under the light neutral colors of my make-up. I looked forward to today. I was supposed to be going out with Mary tonight and her date… John. I became elated inside at the prospect of seeing John again, yet, part of me was frightened at the idea that I may somehow see Sherlock again. I did miss him, terribly in fact, but I needed this. I needed my time alone.

"Dr. Hooper?" I heard Thomas call to me which woke me out of my reverie. I shook my head as if to clear my mind and looked to Thomas and smiled.

"Yes Thomas, what is it?" I said as nicely as I could muster.

"Cause of death is a heart attack, doctor. Seemed as if Mr… Samuels had a medication for cholesterol he was supposed to be taking, but it is not in his blood stream whatsoever." Thomas concluded. It was 3:30 and my shift was done at five. I just wanted to go home to my wonderful flat and get ready for dinner tonight with Mary and John. I didn't want to be here listening to Thomas drone off the cause of death, which was so obvious it made my head hurt. I gasped at my thoughts.

_Now, you stop it right now. _

_Or?_

_You can be strong and _not _be mean!_

_Ugh, fine._

I sighed in relief. What was I going to do with myself? I decided to leave an hour early and head home. My mind was pounding and I just couldn't stop thoughts of Sherlock invading my mind. Things like, 'Well Sherlock would've had a snarky comeback' or 'Sherlock would've known what was wrong in ten seconds' or 'Sherlock would've looked great hunched over a body.' What in the world is _wrong with me?!_

I finally made it to my flat. I hung up my coat, picked up Toby and pecked his forehead then put him down so I could feed him. Mary said we wouldn't be meeting until 5:30. She was coming to my place to get ready for John. John… right. I still have yet to tell Mary that this wonderfully elusive man she swooned about was John, John Watson, the man I knew and held a great deal of respect, caring and gratitude for.

I wonder if Mary told him who he'd be meeting tonight. Part of me thought yes, since she does consider me her best friend, and possibly would've brought me up on more than one occasion, but part of me hoped she hadn't so I could see the look of surprise on his face when he saw me. I couldn't wait to look at my old friend. Going from seeing someone almost every day, to almost three months of not seeing them can be daunting on the mind and heart. I feel so strongly about this, so only imagine how I feel about Sherlock.

I walked into my room to pick out some clothing ideas of what I would wear tonight. We really weren't going anywhere fancy, just some little club that recently opened up, has great food and music apparently, John recommended it Mary said, and I smiled at the thought of him again. As I looked through my wardrobe just trying to settle on a color I looked over to my clock. 5:20 pm. I would have to take a shower soon. John was meeting us here, and that thought excited me. I wanted him to see my new place and what I have done to it. Also wanted him to see where I had put the wonderful painting he bought me.

At the mention of said gift, I looked to it in my bedroom. Of course I put it in my bedroom, where else would it belong? It seemed to only make me miss my consulting detective even more, and to have my dreams of him run rampant, or at least I blamed it on the painting. I looked at it thoughtfully and I could feel my eyes becoming glassy. I missed him so much it hurt me inside. I wanted to run to him and hug him, to kiss him and tell him I love him, but he wouldn't want that, I know him. He has no sense of feeling, or at least I thought he hadn't. John never told me how he reacted to finding out I was gone, and part of me wanted to know. I wanted to know if he had some semblance of feeling, platonic or otherwise for me, because it would mean I would be one step closer to being back at Bart's… my true home.

Thinking about Bart's made the tears fall, of course. The place was my home. My flat back then was just a place to sleep. I loved all of my gadgets and all of the people and cases I would get from Scotland Yard. I love my boss, Mike, and I loved Sherlock most of all. Now thinking about the times I brought him coffee, part of me just wished to hear his voice one more time saying, 'Would you mind grabbing me a coffee? Black, two sugars. I'll be upstairs.' I laughed at the thought, and then shivered at the sound of his voice in my head. He truly could make anything sound sultry. It was beyond unfair.

I chose three outfits and thought to wait until Mary got here to help me pick out the best one. As I was gathering my change of clothes to go head off to the shower, I heard a knock on my door. I quirked a brow at the sound, then laughed remembering Mary was dropping by. She's been over a couple times, but I'm not used to hosting many people.

I shuffled to the door to open it and indeed found Mary standing on the other side smiling broadly.

"Hey you!" She said pulling me in to a hug.

"Hey yourself!" I laughed out and returned the hug accordingly.

"I heard you left early, everything all right?" Mary looked at me with worry written slightly on her face. I think she was worried I had gotten sick and was going to call everything off, but to be honest; I was just as excited, if not more than her to see John.

"Oh, yeah! I'm wonderful! Just needed some air and wanted to tidy up the flat a bit." I told her reassuringly. I thought it may be a little much telling her 'I had to leave because I was driving myself mad with ideas of Sherlock and how it was wrong with him not being there.' Yeah, just wanted to tidy up a bit.

"Come in, sit down! Would you like a cup of tea? I'm just gonna pop in the shower." I said to Mary absently as I was walking to the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

"Sure! Go on, I'll get the tea when it's done. Go get ready." She said. I nodded and began walking off to the bathroom. "John said he may bring a friend anyway, so look nice!" Mary peeped and I froze.

A friend? … A friend. John has friends… not many, but more than Sherlock. What were the chances of him bringing someone _other_ than Sherlock, though? Did John want to take Mary to this place because of a case? I know how Sherlock can get when they're on a case. It's like personal life isn't in his vocabulary at that point. My heart began racing in anticipation of possibly seeing him.

"Right!" I squeaked as I almost ran to the bedroom and decided which dress I would indeed wear, knowing whether John's 'friend' was indeed Sherlock or not, it would be a good choice nonetheless.

After I got out of the shower I did my hair and make –up, natural with a deep pink lipstick. I put on my dress, a red cocktail dress that came to a little above the knee. It had a sweetheart neckline and was form fitting to my figure, even more so now thanks to the yoga. My legs looked fantastic with my black heels which faded to red. I wore a pair of gold diamond stud earrings and a simple gold chain necklace with a heart. I made sure my hair looked nice and curly and added a wonderful red hair clip on the side. When I got out of the bathroom, Mary snuck in, but not without giving me an exaggerated cat call which made me laugh out loud.

I sat on my sofa feeling oddly uncomfortable in my own presence. I felt anxious and scared, excited and worried. I had so many emotions flowing through me I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat staring at the walls. All the crisp colors dancing about the room almost made my head spin. I began to fill with panic. Why would I panic at a time like this? I have lived here for three months. Certainly I loved it here, but I assume part of me was scared at seeing those wondrous blue eyes again.

I felt a stinging behind my eyes at the thought of him and his curls. I imagined him smirking at me. Not his usual smirk, the fake one he did to everyone aside from John, his genuine smirk, his smile, the one he only held for his best friend. I almost became angry at not being able to hold the privilege to see such a smile on that man's face. I bolted up from my seat and began putting on a kettle of tea for my guests; I assumed John would be coming soon. I also decided it would be nice to make some sandwiches as well.

As the tea was finishing its boil, Mary came out of the bathroom in her wonderful blue halter dress. It looked amazing against her bright blonde hair. She had on light make-up and a pair of black heels. She looked at me expectantly and I smiled and she made what sounded like a squeal of happiness. I laughed.

As I brought the tray out to the sitting room, I heard a knock on the door. My heart began to race and I became short of breath. I became light headed and didn't know what to do or feel. I wanted to scream and hide in my bedroom, I wanted to cry. Before I even realized it I was walking to the door with Mary to answer it.

Mary opened the door, assuming I wouldn't know John, and then answered the door.

"Well hello there." Mary said low and sweetly.

"Helloo." John said with his voice quite suggestively. I giggled. They walked in to the flat and John froze in place as he looked at me. I could feel it, My eyes were watering. I will not cry, I can not cry.

I began crying.

Damn you Molly, Damn you.

"Mol—Molly?" John said almost in disbelief.

"Oh no… please don't tell me that you two dated before!" Mary groaned.

"No!" John and I said at the same time almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the notion. We looked at each other and I ran into his arms. He laughed and held me for what seemed to be hours. He kissed my forehead and looked down at me eyes gleaming.

"You look absolutely wonderful. Molly." John breathed out. I gasped at the look on his face, he himself looked like he was holding back tears.

"John!" I cried out and pulled him in again and held on to him tighter than last which caused him to laugh.

"How are you? You look great!" He said.

"I've—I've been good. Just work and life. Taking Yoga classes. Cooking meals every night, playing the cello. By the way… thank you. For everything." I said smiling.

"Of course." John said.

"You sure you two never dated?" Mary seemed irritated. We looked at each other and laughed.

"Oh goodness no. This is my friend John, he's friends with Sherlock. Remember I told you about Sherlock Mary?" I looked at her and gave her a knowing glance and then she made an 'O' shape with her mouth acknowledging her understanding.

"Small world, huh?" She quipped.

"You're telling me." John said and we began laughing.

We sat in my flat for a bit just chatting and catching up on the past couple months. John talked about Mary as if she weren't there which caused me to smile at the couple. They have been official for almost two months and John seems smitten.

We had a few coups of tea and ate the small sandwiches I made, then gave John a tour around the flat.

"It's lovely, Moll. Sorry I couldn't come by sooner." John said to me, taking the place in.

"It's fine. I understand, truly." I said showing him to the den.

"Here's my den. This is where I play cello." I said knowing he already knew of this information.

"Yeah, Sherlock mentioned that to me… beautiful cello." John said absently, and I looked at him startled.

"…Wait. You didn't ask to have the cello and easel put here?" I was baffled.

"… No. Frankly, how would I know, Moll?" John asked perplexed. My heart softened. So Mycroft did do it, which meant he only found out one way. Sherlock.

I took John lastly to my room. "And this is my room." I said with a sigh. Giving flat tours could be tiring, especially in heels.

"Ah, it's real nice. The painting's a nice touch. I'm glad you liked it." John smiled, and I smiled in return.

"Yes, I love it. Thank you so much for it. I couldn't think of a better place to keep something so great." I finished as John and I walked out to the sitting room to find Mary fiddling with the hem of her dress. I heard John chuckle lightly and grab her hand.

"You girls ready to go?" He directed to both of us.

We both 'hmm'ed' in confirmation, grabbed our coats and left my flat. I could only imagine what tonight would hold for me.

Maybe a tall dark haired consulting detective.

A girl can dream, right?

_Sigh._

_Thanks for reading everyone! I will post the other chapter later today! I am spoiling you all! Well, not really. I just spilt the chapter in half because it was becoming INCREDIBLY long. haha _

_I hope you Enjoy it!_

_Please Read and Review! _


	9. Chapter 9: Party Rockers

**Chapter 9**

**Well, HERE"S THE SECOND CHAPTER EVERYONE!**

**Thank you to Everyone who has reviewed already! I am so happy and please keep it coming! :D**

**MegHolmes: **I will update as fast as I can! haha I love writing it, so I will do what I can! :D

**crooney83: **Hahaha yes, I love messing with all the feels! I'm glad you enjoyed it! :D

**Tenshi (Guest): **hahaha You'll just have to read to find out! Thanks for all the support! :D

**ALSO: I'm posting the link of the shoes I was talking about. I am a big writer about clothes, and I love the details... I'm weird like that. I think the shoes that Molly is wearing are so sexy! hahaha **

**ALSO: The name of the chapter is from the Song "Party Rockers" by LMFAO. I actually don't like them, except this song. I also thought it was a good club song. put you in a good club dance mood. haha **

**NOW ON WITH IT! :D**

The club we went to was modern and trendy. The place was dark and the bass was heavy. There were strobe lights along with varying lights of red, blue and green, the typical club music and people flowing out on the dance floor. I was quite surprised someone like John would recommend a place like this. It made me think even more that John wanted Mary to come here because of a case. They had booths along the walls near the bar and couches strewn throughout the corners of the dance floor.

John, Mary and I grabbed a booth near the bar and John was nice enough to grab us a drink. I sat there smiling at Mary who looked nervous; she wanted to ask me something I could tell.

"Okay, so spill it." I laughed out.

"So you know him… is he really great?" Mary asked seemingly unsure of herself.

"He is wonderful. A great caring and loyal friend." I added with a smile.

John came back with our drinks and we sat down and talked casually. I wanted so badly to ask John how Sherlock was doing but I didn't know if it were my place to pry or not. Yet, when would I honestly get another opportunity to do so?

"So John…" I began.

"Hmm?" He said while taking in his beer and looking around the club, yup… definitely on a case. This caused my heart to beat faster.

"How… how has, well… how has Sherlock been?" I asked quickly and immediately looked at my piña colada like it was the most interesting thing in the world; yet not without missing John shooting a glance surprisingly at me. I looked up at him after a few moments to see his face falter when he finally answered me.

Honestly, Moll? Horrible. He is absolutely horrible. I can't stand being around the man. I have been staying with Mary most nights because he insists on composing sad concertos at all hours of the night and moping around the flat barely changing out of his sleeping gown, only recently has he taken up a case from me pleading with him." John said to me as he let out a sigh. Him telling me that alone seemed to tire him out. I felt the familiar pricking sensation behind my eyes but did my best to hold it back.

"So… what about Bart's?" I said hoping that would be a better subject. I assumed he would be happy with me gone and practically having free reign over the lab since a woman like Jennifer was running the place, she could be so nice.

"Oh goodness. Do not even bring up Bart's Moll." John began laughing. I looked at him surprised and he continued. "That girl… Jennifer her name is? Barely waited a day to change the entire lab after you left. Sherlock hasn't stepped in the place since that day. One of the reasons he's refused to take on cases. He doesn't want to risk having to go down to the lab."

"She… What?" I couldn't believe my ears. She did what to my lab? That horrible, evil woman I stopped myself.

_It's not your lab anymore, Molly. _

_To hell it isn't! It will always be my lab! What had that woman done?!_

My mind shrieked in anger. I could only assume John could see the inner turmoil on my face and it almost caused him to smirk.

"Well it couldn't be that bad…" I tried to reason.

"She got rid of his microscope." He said plainly.

"She… _WHAT?!_" I did everything but scream. I was lucky we were in a club or people would've noticed. I sat back down and tried to compose myself. How could she do such a thing? How could she do this to him? My mind saddened.

"He misses you Moll. So, so much… and, well… I feel tonight may not end too well." John said to me uneasily.

"Because you're on a case and he's going to be, or is here somewhere… right?" I said to John and he looked at me eyes wide and nodded in confirmation.

"Oh, come off it, I have known Sherlock for years, I know how he is. And I know you. You would never recommend a club, you're here because of a case, and it was your only way to see Mary without Sherlock breathing down your throat." I chuckled.

"Absolutely brilliant deduction, Molly." I heard a deep familiar voice breathe into my ear. My heart began to race. I turned around eyes wide to look into the amazing pools of green-blue I have dreamt of for so many years, and it took every fiber in me to not latch on to him and never let go.

When I allowed the situation in front of me to register, I saw that he was wide-eyed himself. He looked at me startled but I couldn't place why. Maybe because of my appearance. I did look somewhat different. My hair was shorter, had highlights, and I was wearing a rather flattering form-fitting dress, but he wouldn't be able to see that from his angle, would he?

"I never knew how much I'd miss those eyes looking at me Molly Hooper." He said to me breathlessly then straightened his composure. I gasped at his confession and looked him up and down. He was wearing a black suit with a charcoal dress shirt and his Belstaff. I looked at him and saw something different and I almost cried for joy.

The scarf. He was wearing a scarf. The scarf I gave him for Christmas. It was cashmere and the color of a wonderful plum. Purple always looked good on him, and it just made me want to find a dark corner and place tiny kisses on every part of his face until all of the tears I had brimming behind my eyes seized.

"Sh—Sherlock!" I gasped.

"Yes?" He smiled at me. He genuinely smiled at me.

"He—hello…" I forced from my mouth. No… I'm not supposed to stammer, I promised I wouldn't allow this!

"Hello…" He said to me, his voice almost sounded sultry. I gulped as my mouth became dry. I went to grab my drink when his hand caught mine on the glass and wrapped around it softly.

"Mind if I have a taste?" He looked at me. His eyes seemed to darken. I nodded my head giving him permission as he motioned the glass towards his mouth, my hand still under his. He wrapped his perfect lips around the straw and sucked down the sweet beverage not taking his eyes off of me. The act almost felt dirty. I knew I was blushing and he chuckled.

"Delicious." He said to me. My eyes widened slightly. Was he _flirting_ with me? Does Sherlock even know _how_ to flirt with women?!

"I can assure you I am more than capable." He purred and I gasped, which caused him to chuckle once more. How on earth did he know what I was thinking?!

"Sherlock… This, this is Mary. Remember I told you about Mary?!" John said clearing his throat to try and break the scene before him. I didn't know whether to thank him or hit him.

"Yes. Mary. The woman you've been staying with on and off for the past two months, it seems. A… nurse, works at the same hospital as Molly, Well. What hospital do you work at Mary?" Sherlock said in his nicest voice smiling.

"Well, I work—"

"No!" John and I said at the same time and I began to almost feel ashamed. I shouldn't care, but Sherlock shot a look at John that seemed to resemble anger, then one to me, that seemed to look like, _hurt?_ No… could it? Now I felt even worse.

He straightened up further and continued speaking. "You've known Molly for a long time and you trust her greatly. You went to Uni together. You like to sing, but have a fear that you're not as good as everyone leads on. You like Karaoke nights with _Molly?_" He looked to me in almost disbelief and I blushed at his observation. "You're a hard worker, and fiercely loyal. You were uneasy about John at first, which caused you to ask Molly about him. You didn't know that they were friends, you just found out recently—no, today… and you thought they were an item before. I can assure you that is not the case." He smirked at me and I blushed an even deeper shade of red. "Your hair color is not natural, but it suits you better than your natural brown. You never walk out of the house without make-up on because regardless of how people perceive you, you seem to have insecurities about yourself, your eye color is natural though, a bright blue, which you are proud of and seem to get many compliments on… natural, unlike the eyes of that… _Jennifer_." I heard him spat out.

"Well, your reputation precedes you, Mr. Holmes. I was warned after all." Mary chuckled lightly and looked at John who just shook his head and sighed.

"Yes, well… right. They warned you about me? Oh, well of course John did. Never likes me to have fun." Sherlock said to Mary as his face twitched into what would be a remnant of a smile.

Sherlock turned away from the couple and faced me full on.

"Let me look at you." Sherlock said to me and I looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?" I said casually.

"Stand up; I want to look at you." He said plainly. I did as he said and stood up. I needed to come across as confident. I needed him to know he held nothing over me, even though I knew in my head and heart he still did.

_Hold it together, Molly. Show him. Show him how strong you are!_

I nodded and walked up to him confidently as I saw him look me up and down.

"See something you like, Mr. Holmes?" I purred. I was about five inches from him then when he took a slight step back and looked me up and down. His eyes widened slightly at my comment then a smirked spread across his face. Regardless of that expression, he was trying to remain distant so that no one could know what he was really thinking.

"Mary's a nurse. She works in pediatrics. Don't 'cha, Mary?" John said to Sherlock and he spared a look in his direction glaring at him.

"Interesting, truly. But for the sake of our friendship, John could you please, Be. Quiet? I am trying to talk to Doctor Hooper." He said as his eyes focused on to me.

"Dance?" He asked casually. Well one dance couldn't hurt, I guess.

"Sure. Why not." I smiled as he outstretched his hand to mine.

He led me to the dance floor and I was frankly surprised. I'm sure he was using me as a form of cover so as not to look suspicious, but part of me didn't mind. I relished in being able to help him on a case. I missed being around him during those moments so much.

He stopped almost in the middle and pulled me close. He looked down to me and whispered into my ear.

"Something tells me you had an idea I would be here." He chuckled lightly. His voice sent shivers down my spine and I moved into him closer.

"I had my suspicions." I said to him and looked into his eyes.

"You look wonderful." He said to me and I scoffed off his remark, which caused him to look at me abashed.

"What?" He said. "No need to compliment me. I'm dancing with you, and helping you blend in. I don't mind, got me on the dance floor." I said to him as I began swaying my hips back and forth.

He pulled me flush against him which caused me to gasp in surprise. He pulled my face up to look at him intently.

"Why must everything I do be for my own gain? Can I not enjoy your presence?" He said to me. His eyes were maddening. I looked in them and I swear I could drown from the power they held over me. Those beautiful pools of green-blue. I could look into them forever. I tried holding back what was the beginning of a moan in my throat as he started swaying in rhythm with me I let out a content sigh and he breathed even harsher on my neck.

"I like the hair…" He breathed out. "And the dress… Especially the dress…" He pulled me in closer.

"I'm glad you approve." I managed out my mouth not without him noticing how breathless I was. He looked at me and grinned. Damn that man.

"Time away from me has seemed to serve you well, Doctor Hooper. Can't say it's done the same for me." He added.

"Oh, yes… John said you've been an absolute mess without me, Mr. Holmes." I purred and giggled softly.

"That incompetent woman has turned the lab upside down. She has made a mess of the place I once enjoyed going to." He growled into my ear as he grinded against me with the music.

"Oh!" I moaned. He peeked his head from my neck and looked at my flushed face. I smiled to see his flushed in return.

"So why are you here?" I whispered into his ear. He held on tight and moved his hands lower on my waist, or that could've been wishful thinking.

"Drug lord… ordered four deaths and… the… killers… are supposed to be… here, but I see… nothing." He said to me in between breaths.

"I'm not distracting you, am I?" I teased.

"No… no of course not." He said to me almost too coldly pulling back from our embrace just slightly. My face faltered a bit.

He then held me and moved his hands along my sides ever so slowly that my eyes fluttered shut from the sensation and I ground against his pelvis without even knowing.

"And even if, it would be a welcome distraction… _Molly_." He whispered and I swore I heard a growl. I chuckled light and froze when I felt what I thought was the lightest of kisses flutter to my neck. I looked up at him and his eyes seemed to be trailing around the room. This man will be the death of me.

"John said that you _missed_ me, could that be true detective? Could you miss me?" I liked teasing him. He flashed his eyes back to me and brought his mouth to my ear once more.

"If wondering when you will see a person again is missing… then I suppose, yes… yes I have." He said and lightly kissed my ear. I moaned lightly and pressed into his lips.

"What on earth are you doing to me, Sherlock Holmes?" I asked him my eyes half closed from the sheer arousal that emanated off the man in front of me.

"I could ask you the same thing, Molly Hooper." He purred.

"Have you missed me?" He asked innocently.

"No." I said, but I couldn't stop my lips from turning up into a smirk.

"Really?" He almost looked upset at my fake confession. I giggled softly and placed one of my hands in his hair at the nape of his neck, and the other on his cheek.

"Of course I did you git, I always miss you. Always." He looked at me eyes wide at my confession and he seemed to almost become uncomfortable at the situation. I pulled him down closer to me and give him an innocent peck on the lips, slowly but surely then pulled away to look into his wonderful eyes, which seemed to be almost black at this point.

"I'm sorry—" he began.

"Shh… please don't make me remember why I left when you're being so great right now." I said to him smiling.

"Right then…" He added. "Care for something to eat? Nothing much going on here and the music is rubbish. I know a good Chinese place that stays open till 2 AM, would you care for a bite?" He asked cordially. I laughed at his change of attitude and nodded slightly. I told him I had to go back to our booth to grab my coat and then we could leave.

When arrived to where we were sitting, Mary and John looked quite comfortable snogging each other all over my damn coat. I felt terrible interrupting them, but Sherlock was waiting for me. As I was about to say something, I heard the familiar baritone voice clear it's throat which then caused the couple to separate almost immediately.

"Oh, Sherlock… everything good?" John said a little flustered.

"Yes, everything's fine John. Molly needs her coat. We going to get something to eat. I will see you tonight, well, probably tomorrow at the pace your night is going." He smirked.

John looked at him abashed then composed himself. "Right well, oka—wait, Moll… you're going out, with Sherlock?" John asked almost disbelievingly.

"Oh Gosh no!" I quickly added and Sherlock looked at me surprised. Oh….

"Oh, you meant for dinner… yes, we are grabbing dinner. Right, just dinner thanks, nothing more… There is nothing more, right?" I looked up to Sherlock who stood beside me, with a knowing smile on his face.

"Well, we'll just have to see where the night takes us, won't we, Doctor Hooper?" He said seductively.

Oh crap.


	10. Chapter 10: I'm Bored, Let's Have Dinner

**Chapter 10**

**OKAY, I am seriously going to try and write in THIRD PERSON. Every time I make an attempt at this, I seem to fail miserably for some reason. But, I feel this chapter would do well if it were in third person, So, I will try. Wish me luck, and tell me how it goes! :D**

**MegHolmes: **Hahaha You're terrible! I kid, I kid… it's the point of the story, yes? ;)

**Edwardita: **Ahhhh! Sooo many feels! Hahaha I'm so glad I made you feel them! :D

**Louvreangel: **Well, if you read Chapter 9, then you know, the answer, if you didn't. GO READ CHAPTER 9! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE SILLY?! Hehehe 3 Oh and in regards to your SECOND review, YES… I WILL MAKE YOU FANGIRL IT IS WHAT YOU ARE MEANT TO DO. I 3 you. Hahahaha

**Potix: **One, Thank you so much! Two, I love your stories! I honestly don't know if I've told you, but now you know! :D

**Poodle warriors: **Yup! Don't get used to it! Hahaha I like to spoil you guys some times. Also, yes! _But there is a far worse day coming for me _– You see what I did there? :P

**Niafadra: **Thank you so much! That was one of my favorite scenes to write, actually. So I completely agree with you. I like writing John and Molly as friends, makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. :D In regards to your second review, I couldn't agree more, so thank you. I'm glad you liked the buildup. I was worried how it would come across. I just hope you like this chapter!

**4May: **You bet I was! I love childish Sherlock so, so much! He is just so much fun to write! Also, do not fret, it was not a dream. And thanks for the messages and support, truly. I appreciate it. You're wonderful. :D

**MorbidbyDefault:** I always look forward to your reviews when I write a steamy chapter! :D

**Rocking the Redhead: **I'm glad you liked it! To me, John is always his moral compass, so I wanted to make it known. :D And yeah! I always love club scenes! Hehehehehe

**NOW ON WITH IT, SHALL WE? :)**

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Sherlock and Molly left the club around 11 pm alone in the brisk March London air. Molly didn't quite know how to feel about the situation. After all, she was supposed to be staying away from the man and building up her resolve against him. One dinner wouldn't hurt, right?

_It could ruin everything._

Her mind screamed out in protest, but she chose to blissfully ignore it as she looked at the man beside her striding in step along the dark London streets. She didn't honestly know what to think of the situation. Had he sincerely lost interest, or was this just another one of his plots to get her to come back to the lab so she could get him parts again and so he wouldn't have to deal with Jennifer? He mind raced with the scenarios in her head. She just didn't know which ones were true.

Sherlock also seemed to be having an inner war with himself. He wanted to chastise himself for acting so foolish to Molly.

_How could you do such a thing? Leading the poor girl on?_

_We need to bring her back, we need cases again. Our mind is deteriorating. _

_That is no excuse. You need to suck it up and go to the lab. _

_Not without Molly._

His mind pouted. They arrived to the restaurant in what could only be described as awkward silence. They had never really spent time alone together outside of the morgue over bodies before, and they didn't really know how to act. What happened earlier in the night didn't seem to help matters either. The tension was rather high and the overall buzz of the club seemed to wear off of them and reality was crashing around them. They didn't seem to realize at the time how close they were in public, especially in Sherlock's opinion, now reflecting back on it he seemed to almost have a permanent scowl on his face thinking over the whole incident.

"Look, Molly, I—"

"Can we just eat and _not _talk about how awkward our situation almost became at the club? I would greatly appreciate that." Molly let out in one breath trying to avoid Sherlock's gaze.

His eyes widened a bit in shock by her words. He never expected her to be embarrassed. Why would she be? Wasn't she practically infatuated with him? She quite literally loved him; wouldn't that situation be a perfect scenario in her head? He didn't understand how it made her uncomfortable. It made him uncomfortable, even more so the more he thought about it, but he didn't understand why it made her uncomfortable. He would have to think over the reason for this later.

"Right. Of course." He simply stated.

"They have a wonderful Pepper Steak here… I recommend you get that, will cause the least amount of dissatisfaction for your meal—"

"I will order what I would like, and Pepper Steak will not be it. But, thank you for the recommendation nonetheless, Sherlock." Molly quipped and looked him in the face in saying so. He almost flinched back at her words. When had she become so bold? A part of him liked it, but a part of him only found it even more increasingly difficult to convince her to come back to Bart's which he was hoping he would be able to do before the night was out. He had assumed at the club that it was a done deal, but as soon as he sat down at the restaurant, he knew it was only the beginning.

Molly had tried her best to keep calm but she was on edge. She couldn't help it, her other side was coming out, and when that happened, well there was no stopping that Molly. Frankly, she had no control over the bold side of herself yet. She liked her that was true, but there were times when she would be appalled by her own antics, like she had been for the past five minutes, the Molly four months ago would've _never_ talked to Sherlock in such a manner, but that was quite the point, wasn't it?

_He thinks he can win me back to Bart's so easily, doesn't he?_

Her mind fumed. She knew that's what Sherlock's mind plotted in his head. Part of her, the old part of her had hoped that he wanted her around tonight solely for her presence and company, but she knew that wasn't true. She knew that he wanted to make her swoon over him I hopes of winning her back to the lab and back to her mousy self and back to doing his every whim. She couldn't allow it. She needed to make a stand, and the first step was this dinner.

"I'll have the Sweet and Sour Pork. Yes, that sounds good." She smiled while Sherlock scrunched his face up in distaste.

"Do as you wish." He added.

"I shall." She challenged.

He looked her in the eyes hoping to make her break from his gaze, but to his surprise she didn't back down. It took everything inside of him for his eyes not to soften from those wonderful brown eyes. He truly had missed looking at them; he had not lied about that. Actually, he had not lied about any of it. Her hair length suited her much better, and the highlights complimented her skin tone. The bangs framed her face and the gradual weight loss made her facial features more sharp but not to the point of too angular. She looked marvelous. Being away from him had really served her well, and that thought pained him. She had a twinkle in her eye and a slight smirk to her lips. The lipstick she chose to wear, a deep pink was fading, but was still somewhat apparent.

The dress complimented her figure nicely, even more so now that she had been doing yoga classes. He wasn't supposed to think of Molly this way. Molly was his pathologist and nothing more. She was the girl he woo'ed to help him get parts at her lab and to give him all access to any chemicals he may need for any cases or for any purposes he see fit. He wasn't supposed to get involved.

Molly looked at him for a moment as he seemed to be looking at her, but not really, it was as if he were looking through her, which I suppose was nothing new. She was used to not being noticed by the detective, to just being a ghost of a figure, only apparent to him when necessary. It was like he could block her from his line of vision and make her appear again when it was of importance.

"Are you not going to order anything?" Molly said to him trying to wake him out of whatever trance he seemed to put himself in. He seemed to visibly shake himself and focused himself on the woman in front of him once more.

"No… I'm on a case." He said plainly.

"Then why did we come here?" Molly asked really irritated by the turn of events. She was having fun with John and Mary, and frankly would've enjoyed it if Sherlock hadn't shown up and ruined it by showing her his curls and eyes and smile and breath on her neck. Her eyes slightly widened by the thought process she was having especially in front of the man himself. This only solidified the fact that staying away from the consulting detective was a good idea.

When Molly first met Sherlock, She remembered hearing stories about him being on drugs. His favorite poisons being heroin and cocaine. She confronted him once. Her being a doctor, and also being completely smitten with the man, she had a general concern for him and his welfare. When she looked back on him then and how he is now, she can't help but think how much he had really changed. She thought he was cold and emotionless now; he barely looked at her then. The only thing she could get out of him were grunts and scoffs. But it all changed in one day.

He came into the lab when he got wind of an unusual autopsy that Molly had recovered. Greg Lestrade, who had been newly appointed to DI, had no idea what the cause of death was and was relying on Sherlock's expertise.

He came waltzing in to the morgue with his head held high nearly pushing me out of the way to get a close look at the body in front of him. He took in all possible scenarios and his face faltered slightly. Greg looked at him expectantly waiting for his dashing reply of the cause of death like he always had tumble from his mouth from under twenty seconds, but it never came. He suddenly became angry and balled his fists at the mystery before him.

"_What on earth is this?" he said fuming._

"_What do you mean, Sherlock? It's the body we told you about? It was found in the Thames last night, no traces of struggle, yet no traces of drowning either." Greg said almost baffled as much as Sherlock was which upset the man even more that he seemed to be on the same level as the daft DI. _

"_Well it has to be the only possible explanation. Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true." _That was his favorite line. Molly slightly grinned at the memory at first hearing him utter those words, then almost chuckled in front of the man at what she knew would happen next in her thoughts.

"_Actually…" Molly tied to say. "Molly, please, do be quiet, we are trying to _work_ here." Sherlock shot her a glance. It was the first time, she could recall that they had ever looked into each other's eyes aside from the first day they met, and that was when she knew, she knew that day, that no matter how cruel the man in front of her seemed, she would fall, and fall hard for him. She didn't know if that was wonderful, or horrid. _

"_Yes, Sherlock… I found traces… of a chemical." She stated. _

"_You… _What?!"_ Sherlock said voice raising in the quiet morgue. The look upon his face was one of rage. Molly had explained to him that she found the compound on side of his lip, she only found it because she used a black light to look for traces of any chemicals that might have washed away, and it was her instinct. She told him to not worry about it, and that, that was the reason why he wasn't the pathologist. _

"_Excuse me?" He seethed. "Are you trying to reassure me that it's _all right _that you knew something _I_ didn't? Because I will tell you something, Miss Hooper, it is not all right, not in the least bit." He scowled at her and her face faltered, which caused a wry grin to spread upon his face. Why did her sadness cause him such joy? Could he truly be so cruel? She didn't understand! She ran out of her morgue and headed to the nearest place she knew of, the rest room, yet not without hearing a hearty laugh and scoff from the detective, which only made her cry worse. _

Little to her surprise, later that night she received a phone call from Greg telling her to go to Bart's immediately. She thought she was needed for a case, but it was quite the contrary. Sherlock was in the ER and frankly Greg didn't know who else to call. He had OD'ed on heroin and almost died. When Sherlock saw those brown eyes facing him covered with worry he hissed at her like a cat.

"Go away! I don't need you!" He scratched from his throat.

"Sher—Sherlock, please, let me help you!" Molly said to him tears brimming her eyes, she didn't know what to do. She barely knew the man, but felt emotions you felt for a man you had known for ages. She didn't want to see him suffer. Why would he do such things to himself?

"You—you think you're smarter than me _Doctor _Hooper?! Ha!" He said with a cough then turned over on the bed and vomited. Molly winced from the sound. Then it dawned on her. Was she the cause of this? Was her knowing what had happened to the victim on her slab what caused him to fall off the wagon? An overwhelming feeling of dread filled her and all she did was stay by his side and wipe the sweat from his brow.

He was there for three days coming off the high and the need for the next fix. After he was released from the hospital Sherlock gained a new respect for the petite pathologist. He treated her with more respect and saw her in a new light, granted he still treated her worse than a human being but it was better than never acknowledging her existence or even her potential. At least now he knew he had to at this point because he owed it to her because of what she did for him. At least that's what she thought anyway.

Molly had an addiction too, apparently. Her's wasn't one like heroin or cocaine; some might even argue that it would be worse than those two combined. It just so happened to be the poison of one tall brooding dark curly haired blue-green eyed consulting detective.

They truly weren't any different. When she was exposed to him, she couldn't get enough. She would constantly want more and beg for his presence, to the point of looking like a bumbling fool. She would constantly tell herself she would quit, but there it would be again and she would need her fix of him. It drove her mad. His hair, his clothes, his coat, things that shouldn't even bother most women about a man. What type of woman obsesses about how a coat fits a man just right? Or how you just beg for those buttons on his shirt to pop at any moment? Or how you just stare at the perfection that are his lips? She remembered the sweet softness of them on her cheek from Christmas, and once more of them on her neck not too long ago. It made her crave him, but she needed to kick the habit. She needed to go cold turkey, it was the only way. She supposed dancing and dinner weren't really good starting points, but give the woman a break, she's went months without contact! Even the smell of him was pulling her slowly over. So yes, they were more alike than Sherlock would ever know, and Molly would ever like to admit.

Molly broke from her thoughts when the food arrived. To her surprise, Sherlock did in fact order something, dumplings and they did smell quite good.

"How's the new position?" Sherlock began.

_So small talk. Okay…_

"It's fine. Work's fine." She added taking a bite of her meal.

"Just… fine?" He smirked.

"Yes. Just fine. That's all you will get from me, because I know you, Sherlock Holmes." Molly quipped as she popped another piece of pork into her mouth with a bit of rice followed by a sip of tea.

"What do you mean?" He looked at her almost offended by her observation.

_That you will try to convince me that going back to Bart's right now is a good idea._ Her mind screamed.

"You'll try to find any reason for me to not want to be at my lab anymore and come back to Bart's." He scowled.

"It's not your lab! Bart's is your lab!" Sherlock said voice rising slightly. Molly's eyes widened at what she would consider an outburst for him. Was he really that upset that she had gone? Well, he would either have to prove that he truly wanted her back at Bart's, by treating her like a person, and not thinking that woo'ing her _like usual_ will bring her back. Or Jennifer had better get _real_ comfortable. According to John, she already had, the thought of that alone made Molly go on edge again.

_This is not good. _

"You have to come back, Molly." Sherlock insisted.

"No." Molly said flatly.

"What do you mean _no_?" He looked at her confused.

"I mean exactly what I said, which was… _No._" she said firmer this time which caused Sherlock lips to form into a tight line. He looked at her hard then her eyes began to soften as he went to grab her hand lightly across the table.

"Look, Molly… please. You have to come back to Bart's, I can't work with that woman." He said smiling.

_It's fake._

"You haven't tried." He sighed exasperated.

"You're right; I haven't because I don't want to work with anyone but you." He said sweetly.

_Too sweetly. _

_But, could he really mean he only wants to work with me?_

_Yes, he does mean that. _

_Truly?!_

_Yes! Because he can walk all over that beautiful doormat known as Molly Hooper!_

_Oh, shut up!_

"Why don't you try it, Sherlock? You may like working with her." Molly said to him with as much sweetness he held for her. He pulled back slightly at her words. He knew what he was doing, he just didn't know she knew what he was doing. He now knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of such falsehoods, and frankly… it sucked.

For so many years, Molly's flirtations towards him had been nothing but sincere, he didn't think she was capable of anything otherwise, his have been knowingly insincere, because frankly he didn't even know if he could be sincere. He didn't think he could be. Yet, seeing her do to him what he had done to her for so many years hit him hard like a slap in the face.

No, wait… that _was_ a slap in the face. Well… _damn_.

"Please do not assume I don't know you, Sherlock Holmes… Also, please… _please _do not assume that I am so gullible as to waltz right back into the life I left for the sole purpose of building a wall against what you had just displayed this evening so wonderfully. You have used me time and time again, and every time, I had hoped it would be sincere at some point, will it ever? I never wanted you to love me, Sherlock. Only to respect me. Is that so much? Is it, truly?" She looked down at him from the table with her hands in fists a Sherlock looking at her eyes wide in shock at her remarks.

"Molly I—"

"Don't you dare say 'I'm sorry' Sherlock Holmes, there are just some things 'I'm sorry' just can't fix." Molly said to him as she grabbed her coat from behind the chair and was ready to head to the door.

"When you are ready to actually _respect_ me, Sherlock… only then will you be able to know where I am, and then… and only then will I be more than happy to jump into your arms and be at Bart's again." Molly said to him as she strode out the restaurant head held high.

Sherlock sat there for a moment not sure what to make of the situation. Molly had slapped him straight across the face. Part of him was entirely impressed, yet part of him was completely pained by the action. Should he be? The logical part of him said that it was only natural for her to act in such a way, yet the _emotional? _part of him still found it quite unfair. He for once decided to side with that side. He tried. He tried reasoning with Molly. He needed her. He couldn't function on his cases without her by his side. He knew this. Yet, he had to prove to her that he could. He wold have to make the best of the most horrible situation given to him. She wanted him to make things work with Jennifer?

_Oh, I will make them work._ He thought in his head deviously.

_I will make this work so well, Molly will think I never missed her at all._

_Except you do. _

_She doesn't have to know that._

_She eventually will have to. _

_No she doesn't._

_Why must you be such a stubborn child?_

_Because it's my mind and I can do what I want. _

His mind huffed in frustration as he got up from the table of the restaurant to leave his food barely touched.

_Well there. Didn't eat anyways. _His mind said in a tantrum.

As he walked the streets of London towards Baker street, he opted out of a taxi, he never realized how alone it could be. _Was this how Molly felt?_ He was thinking, _was this how Molly always felt?_The thought left a feeling in the pit of his stomach which only seemed to make him angry with himself. He needed to not think of his beautiful pathologist any longer. Yes, his beautiful pathologist. He admitted it now. Was there really any denying it when she wore that dress? She barely left much to the imagination. Not to mention, her smile alone captured almost every man in the room. Molly had that flair. She underestimated her potential, along with everyone around her, even Sherlock. Which frustrated him, because he never missed anything well, he thought he never missed anything- but he had, he had missed one of the most important things, the most important thing that had been staring him in that face for years.

Those brown eyes. Those haunted ageless, timeless, enchanting wonderful brown eyes. Solid and strong. They held the form of beauty and grace. They held the strength that Molly so feared to show to everyone, especially him. He so wished to see it. Now that he had, he was happy, and sad. Happy because he was proud she could finally show her true self, yet sad that all her anger and frustrations were directed towards him. Those eyes did still hold the sparkle. That amazing sparkle they always did when he looked into them. She could get lost in his, but what she didn't know, and never would was that he could just as easily get lost in hers. It would be simple. The eyes were framed by her strong yet soft face, edges of wonderful sweetness and kindness no matter how hurt she had been by the hands of the detective, her smile always trudged on. He admired that about her. He would've given up on him years ago, but that was love, wasn't it? Loving someone even when they treated you the worst way imaginable?

Then it hit him. It hit him harder than any slap, any fist connecting to his face, any car passing on the street it hit him so hard he had to hold on to the nearest pole for support. The wind was knocked out of him from the revelation his mind had untangled on his long way home. He somehow managed to come to Baker street solely on instinct. His eyes widened at his thought process. Molly walked away from him. She left him.

She.

Left.

Him.

Had she finally...

Given up?

He gulped from the thought.

Why did this scare him? Not many things scared the detective. Reasoning usually won out over those things, but this was feeling, this was _sentiment _something he already didn't understand, and he was losing it before it even began.

Her leaving him, did it mean, could it mean...

_it couldn't..._

_it could..._ his mind pondered.

"No..." He breathed out.

_Could she not love me anymore?_

The thought rang in his mind for what seemed like ages and he could not understand the thought of that brunette mousy pathologist not loving him, snarky ol' Sherlock Holmes anymore, frightened him more than he could possibly comprehend.

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AHHHH!

I know! You all will probably hate me! But I really Hope you love me for it! Please read and review! Love you! :D


	11. Chapter 11: Wish You Were Here

**Chapter 11**

**Okay! On with the next! **

**First off! Thank you to everyone for such wonderful reviews! I truly hope you all loved the previous chapter! I know I am throwing you all in for a loop! But I surely cannot male it that easy for them… right?! ;)**

**4May: **Thank you! I am so glad you liked it! *bows* I was really excited for this chapter and it kinda' just flowed out of me! :D

**SammyKatz: **I'm glad you're a fan of the strong side of Molly. I was afraid some people would be upset I was writing her a little strong, but I couldn't see her any other way! And Thank You! :D

**Crooney83: **I'm so glad you liked it! :D I try to update as quickly as I can! Haha

**AdaYuki: **Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it! I'll update as soon as I can! Haha

**Rocking the Redhead:** We'll see! I can't tell you everything! But it is a romance! I am a Sherlolly, so that should tell you all you need to know. :D

**Kathmak: **Thanks so much! I'm really glad you like the way I wrote him! I sometimes find it difficult, but very rewarding, he's definitely my favorite to write! They will make amends… eventually! :D

**MorbidbyDefault**: I know! I do hate putting her through so much! Buuuutt, it is angst, and it has to get angsty sometimes. Haha I can't just let him win over an I'm sorry and it all be well, I have to Make Molly Strong! For all the womens! :D

**MegHolmes:** Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! :D

**Poodle warriors:** Hahaha I kinda' felt the same way. I wasn't gonna have it happen, but … I changed it mid-way and thought "'bout damn time Molly Hooper." Haha

**Louvreangel: **I know right?! But that is the point! I want the turmoil in the otherwise sotic detective. Muhahahaha! It will happen, don't fret! :D

**Niafadra: **Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so glad you love my Molly, I love her too! :D As for Sherlock's head, it's forming in my own as well as we speak! Haha and thank you! I'm glad you liked the ending. I was very happy with the outcome. :)

**Silkenslay: **Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I got both, and appreciate them sooo much! Thank you! I'm glad you like my characters! I do try to keep them as close to the original as possible, or at least show a natural progression. :D

**Deadgurlagain: **I'm typing as fast as I can! Thank you for the reviews! And please don't die! I love my readers sooo much! :( hahaha

**I think I may stay in Third person. I actually enjoyed writing in it, and it seemed to give you all a better perspective. I also didn't seem to get any complaints in regards of the change, so yay! If so, let me know, and I don't mind writing in first again. **

**Also, I have somehow become a fan of song lyrics/titles as my chapter titles... I actually used to hate when people did this.. but this one is Wish you were here from Pink Floyd. I will actually have a could chapters ahead that will have a couple snippets of songs, old, good songs, not new poppy songs... I'm a fan of classics. (sorry!) haha I just have to find a way to fit it in! :)**

**On with the show! :D**

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Sherlock staggered up the stairs to 221 B. it was past one in the morning at this point, and he was drained. He took off his Belstaff and scarf, Molly's scarf, the one she gave him for Christmas and flung it across the room in a huff. He sauntered over to the sofa and plopped down on it with a sigh, not missing the looks he received from his blogger the entire time.

"Something on my face, John?" Sherlock snapped up to look him in the eyes. John looked at him started at his outburst and shook his head no.

Sherlock huffed and resumed his place back on the sofa, legs crossed at the ankles, hands steepled under his chin.

"I take it dinner didn't go well then." John added trying to make himself look busy looking at the paper, that so happened to be a week old… and the fashion section.

"What could possible give you _that_ idea?" Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tilted his head in John's direction, but didn't look at him fully on.

"She's not coming back then." John added.

"…No." Sherlock hissed.

John straightened in his seat and coughed uncomfortably. He went to the kitchen to make a kettle of tea for him and the detective. He didn't really want any, but he could see his flat mate needed it. As much as Sherlock didn't want to admit it to anyone, and possibly himself, he missed Molly, and if he wasn't careful, it was going to start to show. His lack of sleep, not going to the lab because of a new pathologist, then if he even started going to the lab, acting like the poor woman was the worst thing on the planet wouldn't hide what everyone already knew besides him apparently.

While John was readying tea for the both of them, Sherlock growled in frustration. Why did John have to think so much? Also, why did he have to think about _him _and _his_ life so much? It was enough that Sherlock had to do it, but now he could hear the constant chatter of John's mind and worry in the background and it drove him mad.

Sherlock opened his mind to his mind palace. He had plenty of time to go there now as he wasn't doing many experiments at Bart's, but that didn't mean that the time there had done him any good. Actually, it was doing quite the contrary. Because of Sherlock's lack of cases, he had nothing new to learn, nothing new to store, no new theories to test out, so his mind was not working at its normal pace and frequency, and it was beginning to show. It was only slight fractures in the walls of his mind palace, the hedges that grew outside began to grow weeds, unnecessary clutter began building up in important places, no matter how hard he cleaned before and no matter how hard he organized and sorted. It made it harder to find the information when he really needed it. It was like what he said to John before about when he deleted the information of the solar system.

It was after one of their first cases and Sherlock made a comment about John's blog. Sherlock smirked at the scene playing before him like a movie in his mind.

_"A Study In Pink, nice. He said as he lay on the sofa looking at John. He looked over to him from Sherlock's chair almost surprised at the compliment and added, "Well, you know. A pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"_

**_"_**_…Um. No." He said to John with an "O" shape on his face for exaggeration to prove his point._

_"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered." John added looking at him eyebrows rose quite surprised by Sherlock's answer. _

**_"_**_Flattered?" Sherlock scoffed. 'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how _spectacularly ignorant_ he is about some things.' He said as he flipped around on the sofa tightening his robe around him like a security blanket. _

**_"_**_Now hang on a minute, I didn't mean that—" John tried to add._

**_"_**_Oh, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a _nice _way! Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister, or who's sleeping with whom—" Sherlock began. _

**_"_**_Or that the earth goes around the sun." John chimed in trying to hold back his smirk. _

_"Oh God, that again! It's not important!" Sherlock sat up motioning towards the man in front of him dramatically. _

**_"_**_Not important? It's primary school stuff! How can you not know that?" John looked at him almost astonished that a man so incredibly brilliant could go through life not knowing something so… well, so entirely ingrained in to your brain at such a young age?_

**_"_**_Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it." He waved John off absently like he had said something so casual, like everyone did it. _

_"Deleted it?" John looked at him bewildered. _

**_"_**_Listen…" Sherlock looked at John seriously trying convey his point. "This is my hard-drive" He said pointing to his head. "And it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. _Really _useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters! Do you see?" Sherlock hoped that his friend would finally understand why he deleted such unnecessary things like who the Prime Minister was and the bloody Solar System. _

_John looked at him silently letting it completely sink in, and then added__**. "**__But it's the solar system!"_

_"Oh, hell! What does that matter?! So we go around the sun! If we went around the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference! All that matters to me is the work! Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog - or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world!" Sherlock said in one last huff and turned his back once more on the sofa pulling his robe once again around him as a means of comfort. _

Like he had explained to John before, this was what was happening now. His mind palace was suffering because of his selfishness and stubbornness towards this one woman. This one, smart, beautiful pathologist. He let out a sigh and continued through his mind palace trying to straighten up what he could, but he knew it no use, because more clutter would be there once he returned again. The only cure was to make amends and go to Bart's once more, with or without Molly. He needed more cases. He couldn't let his mind suffer. He would sort out his feelings for his pathologist at a later date.

As he climbed the stairs, he saw cracks in the wood grain. The once lush palace seemed to darken and become somewhat of an unwelcome place. It once was a place he felt homage to, a means of an escape, where he could relive all of his cases and have access to all forms of knowledge he had acquired over the years. Yet now, he was faced with nothing but uncertainty and an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. Like all the years of work had finally caught up to him. It had finally been placed on his mind, and he had no clue what to do.

He went to John's room. It was still the hunter green it had always been, but a few things changed. There were photos scattered and hues of red graced the room, they represented Mary. photos of him and Mary together had seemed to take more presence than he thought they would've but, he now thought this meant that it was his mind prepping him for what he thought would be the 'one' for John. There was a warm fire place in the corner of his room, with newspapers scattered on the floor. Board games and kettles of tea. John's gun was on the table in front of the fire, representing his service, along with sand strewn about the room. Some medical books lined the walls to represent his vast medical knowledge, but that wasn't as important to Sherlock as John's friendship. So he found _sentimental _things strewn across the room, and this startled him. He knew John was his friend, his only friend in fact, but he was also his associate, so why had that not mattered as much as well? He would ponder on that later.

He didn't want to do this, but he had to. He went to the end of the hall. The area was substantially darker than the rest of the corridor and that thought sat uneasily in the pit of his stomach. Frosted doors with chrome handles were in front of him, and the wording etched into the glass doors read:

**Molly Hooper**

Sigh.

"I have to do this eventually." He said aloud.

"Sorry, what?" He heard John say somewhere outside somewhere in reality, but he ignored it.

He walked into the room and almost mentally kicked himself for allowing it to become in such a state. The place was a wreck. He felt guilty at the sheer neglect. The lights which were fluorescent, like the ones in the morgue were swinging haphazardly from the ceiling not held on completely from the state of the room. The room was stark white, no personality at all. It was like he barely knew the woman, which… he barely did. He couldn't really deny that fact. He knew she was a pathologist, and that she worked at Bart's hence the reason why he room looked like a morgue in his mind palace. The tables were chrome, just like the workstations at the lab, and they had files strewn all over them spilling upon the floor, unlike at the lab. Molly kept a tight ship. She liked her morgue and lab clean and organized, that he could appreciate. There were some parts of her personality throughout the room, such as pictures of cats hung on the walls; he wanted to tear them down for his mind representing her in such an idiotic way. Sure, Molly loved cats, but that didn't mean that was all she liked. He walked further and saw his microscope in the far corner alongside his petri dishes, the area completely clean. He scoffed. Leave it to his mind to only think of himself when it came to Molly even in his subconscious.

The room grew warmer in color, yet became even more cluttered as he walked towards what would be her office. He almost smiled—her office surely would look the same, he knew how it looked it real life, it would be warm and he would feel at home, it would be a welcome sight, he rationalized. He opened the office door, and seemed to be partially right. The room was covered in a wonderful pink, well half of it was anyway, which graced the wonderful wooden oak desk Molly used to sit behind when filing her reports. It almost felt like he was there again. Like he could sit on that god awful yet comfortable sofa and listen to her hum for hours while he wandered his mind palace, but he was already there, and this couldn't last. He saw her sitting behind the desk and could hear her humming, and even smell her perfume. Yet the smell was not her, it was something special, something she would normally not wear. Her hair was down, and he wanted to call out to her, to see her face.

"Molly." He drawled. She turned around and smiled. She stood up and walked towards him in her lab coat. Her hair was down and pinned back with a silver bow… just like the silver bow at Christmas.

"No." He said. He looked down at her to see her wearing that unforgiving black and diamond studded dress that hugged her every curve. It taunted him, reminded him of why he couldn't look at her anymore. Why he had to come here just to see her face and it made him fill with rage. The dress frankly was not for her. Black was not her color. It washed her out. The red dress she wore earlier that evening look like perfection. Why couldn't she be wearing that instead? It was his mind palace, so why didn't she wear what he desired? It was a fond memory after all. Then he realized.

His mind didn't want him to forget why she was gone. His mind wanted him to remember just how much he lost in one day, how much he lost in one innocent deduction of a sweet innocent girl. Truly what had she ever done to hurt him? Aside from what she was doing now?

Was she hurting him?

Yes, yes she was.

He can admit that to himself now. He doesn't have to admit it to anyone else, but in his mind palace no one had to know… He looked back up to the Molly in front of him, the same Molly from Christmas Eve night, except now, her eyes were red and swollen with tears. His eyes widened. He had never seen this. Had his mind assumed this was the end result? It wasn't a huge jump in logic, really. Yet, seeing her this way didn't make it any easier. He had to look away from her shaking frame as he gazed across the room and saw what he thought he would never see.

It was stark white. A white sofa graced the corner with a brown and steel frame desk sitting in the middle. He had to hold back the bile in his throat. She could not share a room with _his _pathologist. Jennifer sat cross-legged behind her desk hair pinned up and make-up graced her features. The sad part is, this room suited Jennifer far better than it did Molly at this point. This room was so cold and impersonal, and those words should never be used to describe a woman such as Molly.

Jennifer stood up from the desk and sauntered over to him and placed a hand on his chest and he stepped back frantically as if her touch scorched him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't allow this. This was wrong and it was wrong on so many levels his mind palace was beginning to panic. She didn't belong in here. This was for his and Molly's memories, no one else's.

Him and Molly?

Did he and Molly truly _have _memories together?

Sure, they shared cases together, talked over dead bodies together. She brought him coffee. She gave him body parts; she gave him access to the lab. She, she, she…

He began to feel guilt. He had truly used Molly and in the worst way imaginable. By exploiting her feelings for him. It was true they had memories together, but were those memories enough for him anymore?

No… they weren't.

He wanted more. Many more memories with Molly, that consisted with and without the lab.

After much time he finally was able to separate Jennifer from the only sanctuary he could escape to, to see his pathologist.

"I miss her, John." He scratched out finally his voice dripping with emotion. As he looked to his left in hopes of getting a response but saw no one there. It was morning. He had been in his mind palace all night. It almost surprised him to think he spent all night in Molly's room, but should it have?

"Not really. " He scoffed. He looked down at the cold cup of tea and his face faltered slightly.

_What do I do?_

Molly woke that same morning with her eyes puffy from a long night of tears. She felt exhausted. She had cried over that man _again! _She swore she never would, yet here she was. Crying over the damn man.

It was Saturday, and she knew Mary would want to come over and want all the _juicy _details of last night, and frankly, she didn't feel like talking about it, because it was far from juicy. As if on cue, Molly's mobile rang to be graced only by Mary's number.

"Hey, Mary…" Molly answered somberly.

_"Everything okay? John came over here last night saying that Sherlock looked a mess!" _Mary sounded worried.

Molly quirked a brow in interest. Why would he be a wreck?

_He was the one toying with me! I was the one crying all night!_ Her mind shouted. She shoo'ed her conscience away for a bit and responded to Mary.

"Oh? Is that so? In what way?" Molly was genuinely interested. She couldn't help that some part of her truly wanted the man to want her back in her life no matter the circumstance. She could live with being friends, friends would make he beyond happy.

_"Could John and I possibly come over for breakfast to talk about it? I think that would be best. Plus, you're an amazing cook, Moll!"_ Mary added which caused Molly to giggle.

"Sure Mary, just give me a bit to get ready, yeah?" Molly said into the phone, in which she received a resounding 'sure' and hung up expectantly and rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water would help with the puffiness around her eyes, but inside she knew it wouldn't. 

John and Mary arrived a little after ten. When Molly answered the door both of them seemed to have a glow of harmony and it almost made her jealous of their happiness after last night. Yet she couldn't be bitter. They were both her friends and they deserved to be happy.

"Come in, come in!" she ushered the coupled into the kitchenette area so that they could sit down to their morning coffee.

She heard them both sigh at the first sip and she couldn't help but giggle.

"Thanks, Molly!" John said to her beaming. "I really needed that after last night." He added placing the cup down to look me in the eyes.

"No problem. Everything all right?" she added, his face seemed graced with worry and her face had somehow seemed to mirror his. Molly may not want to be under Sherlock's influence so that she can become the woman that she needs to be, the stronger and more independent woman, so that she doesn't have to bend to his will and every whim, but it doesn't change the fact that she still loves him and cares for the man deeply.

"I honestly don't know Moll. He came in after one…"

"One… in the morning?!" She looked at John with her eyes wide. She left first and lived farther from the restaurant than him and she got home before twelve.

"Was he drunk?" she inquired.

"No. He was… sad." He finished.

Molly flinched back at the word he used. Sad? _Sad? _Sherlock was sad? Sherlock could _be_ sad?

"Of course he could be sad Molly, he is human after all." John added almost looking at her in surprise.

She looked up at him in surprise herself. She covered her mouth. She said that out loud. She called the man inhuman out loud. In front of his best friend. Oh jeez. How much of a better person was she to think that he had no heart? She was becoming almost as bad as he was!

There she goes again! Assuming the worst of him. He was good. He did have good traits. He saved countless lives and did it of no cost, quite literally. He asked for nothing in return. You had to have a heart to be able to help save so many lives because if you didn't, then you'd be mad. And he wasn't mad.

_Jim… Jim was mad. _She knew in her heart Sherlock was nothing like Jim. He couldn't be anything like Jim. It was a hard concept to her, since she in fact dated Jim for a short time. Yet, he used her in the only way Sherlock refused to. He could. He could pretend to date her to have all access to the lab. He could've done it so many times to make up for all the times he hurt her. He knew her feelings towards him, but he never did such a thing. He did have a heart and it made this situation all the more worse for her.

She looked at John apologetically and tried to find out what was the state of Sherlock when he arrived home.

"Well, what happened?" She asked.

"Well, he came in and hung his coat up and threw his scarf across the room…" as soon as the words left John's mouth they both winced. John, because he knew the scarf was from Molly, and Molly, because she knew it was the one she got him and it showed just how much she truly hurt him.

"And…" she egged the man on. She may not want to hear it, but she had to.

"I poked fun at him asking if dinner went well or not and he said, 'Obviously not' in his posh way. He wouldn't say anything further but he had a sad look on his face. Like he was distant somehow, longing." John continued, "He was like this after you left. Wouldn't eat for days, stayed in his mind palace for hours upon hours… it consumed him, he lost so much weight. Stayed up all hours of the night and played the violin…" Molly again winced thinking about how she felt when she moved in. On nights when she particularly missed Sherlock; she would pick up her cello. It was such a beautifully sad instrument; it completely conveyed the emotions that she had in her heart for the man.

"Oh. I see…" Molly let out softly. Turning around and cracking a few eggs into a bowl to mix so that she could make some scrambled eggs.

"So… what happened, Molly?" Mary asked apprehensively not wanting to upset her best friend more than she already seemed to be.

"Well, you saw some of the evening…" Molly continued cracking the eggs, was it three? She couldn't remember. "Sherlock took me onto the floor and we danced…" No, _now _it was three. She began cracking another. "we became quite close..." Was that four or five? "He told me I looked wonderful. My hair, my dress…" Her cheeks began to redden. John and Mary looked at each other their eyebrows raised at her confession. "he pulled me close to him and we danced, rather intimately…" that had to at least be five now. "He kissed my neck. Once…" John and Mary looked at each other again in surprise, "No twice." Molly chimed in correcting herself as one of the eggs cracked in her hands. John and Mary's faces now mirrored one another's which seemed to be one of pure shock and bafflement.

"You have to imagine what I thought." Molly tried to laugh it off, but she couldn't help her feelings welling up inside. "I thought he was trying to get me to come back to the lab!" she turned around looking at the couple anchoring her hands onto the counter for support.

"He took me to dinner and I became on edge. I put my wall up. I didn't believe a word he said. My mind told me he was all lies, and part of me still thinks it." Molly continued, angry tears streaming down her face.

"He told me he only wanted to work with me." She said quietly. John snapped his head to look at her. His eyes almost bulging out of his head from hearing about such a confession from his best friend.

"But I wasn't strong enough. I'm not strong enough, you know?" Molly tried to reason to them.

"Molly… you have to understand that Sherlock even saying what you may think is something small, is a lot to him. I know it may not seem like a lot, but it is for someone like him." John said with complete seriousness in his voice.

"I know!" Molly sobbed out. "What am I supposed to do?! Just waltz back in and say 'Well hello Sherlock! Of course I'll make you coffee! Of course I'll let you manipulate me! Of course I'll let you deduce me to pieces!'" Molly whined out before she almost fell to the floor before her best friend grabbed her. Mary gave her boyfriend a pointed look that said, 'YOU BETTER FIX THIS' and he gulped audibly.

"No Molly! You be who you are. _Don't _let him do that. Set rules for him. Tell him that if he doesn't follow them, that you won't allow him into the lab. He would follow rules than rather never go back to Bart's again. Trust me on that Moll—"

"I slapped him." Molly said finally. She let out a shaky breath. John let oh an 'O' and looked at Molly sympathetically.

"I slapped the man I loved in the _face!_" she almost screamed then covered her mouth after letting out such a confession in front of her and Sherlock's best friend.

"Molly…" John went to her. "You can't hide from him…"

"I know…" She hiccupped between tears.

"Trust me, he will value you so, so much if you came back. Molly. But don't do it if you truly don't want to." John said looking Molly in the eyes as a means of support.

"I do, more than anything John. I want to be back, I want to be back at my lab and I want Jennifer away from my petri dishes and my slabs and my shelves and my desk, and my office and everything!" Molly rambled on, which only caused John to laugh heartily as he brought her in for a warm hug.

"So, we should call Mycroft then?" John smiled.

Molly nodded her head happily and took out her phone.

She punched in the numbers and waited for the man on the other line to pick up.

_"Ah, Miss Hooper. A pleasure. Enjoying the position I assume?" _Mycroft said almost too sweetly into the phone.

"I want to be transferred back to Bart's… please." She added for an air of formality.

_"Oh, right. Well then… I was hoping to have my brother suffer a little while longer. _Molly snapped her head up. "You knew?!" She almost became angry that he would allow him to suffer, she never wanted that. _"Well of course I did. I was quite surprised, really. Must care about you more than I thought. More than you definitely thought that's for sure. I keep an eye on him. Don't need him falling off the wagon. You know…" _Mycroft said gingerly. Molly saddened. She definitely knew, and she was proud that if he truly was in the state he was in, that he had not resorted to drug use.

_"Very well then, Miss Hooper. You'll be back at Bart's on Monday." _Said Mycroft as he was about to disconnect the call.

"Thank you! Oh—and Mycroft?" Molly asked.

_"Yes?" _he said almost impatiently.

"Can I keep the flat?" Molly let out biting her bottom lip like a child waiting for an answer from their parent.

_"Yes, but only if you make me pastries on my visits. Good day." _Mycroft hung up the line and it took everything in Molly to not squeal at the events.

She would go back to Bart's, on Monday. She would be back at her lab again. Her old lab. The thought made her heart race and stomach flutter. She felt so light. She went into a fit of giggles and picked herself up from the floor and hugged her friends tightly at the excitement.

True, this would not be easy, yet John had a point. If Sherlock truly wanted her there, he would be willing to follow rules, or she could forbid him from coming to Bart's again, as much as she would hate to do it. Yet, she had to be firm. She had to be strong. She needed the respect that she deserved from him, and she knew that being away from him was tearing both of them apart. What that mean yet, she didn't exactly know. Part of her hoped it was that he cared for her too, but she refused to get her hopes up. She would remain realistic, and that was it. Straight and to the point.

She told John and Mary. She made John swear to not have Sherlock not come in until at least Wednesday so that everything could be the way it was again. She wanted it to be sort of a surprise. She looked forward to it and her heart and mind raced in anticipation.

Watch out Bart's, watch out Sherlock, watch out world, Here comes Molly Hooper!

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Hey Everyone!

I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! Don't worry! I won't make her mousy! I promise! But I love her at Bart's, and I can still make her strong around Sherlock, I promise!

Love you guys!


	12. Chapter 12: Patience, Young One

**Chapter 12**

**Hello everyone! I truly hope you enjoyed the last chapter! I am really trying to update as quickly as I can! I love you guys so much and appreciate all of the wonderful reviews, they are what keep me going! :D**

**Crooney83: **Thank you so much! I had so much fun writing it! :D

**Edwardia: **Yes she will! I couldn't keep her away from Bart's for long! What's Bart's without Molly Hooper after all?! :D and I appreciate your patience, I truly do! :D

**Rocking the Redhead:** I love strong Molly too! She is my favorite to write! :D and I am trying my best to make Sherlock 'over the moon' in the most Sherlockian way possible! :D

**4May: **I doubt it possible, but it'll be interesting to find out in later chapters with his clothing options! Haha Thank you! I love writing about Sherlock's mind palace. Yes, Sherlock should acknowledge, even his own subconscious should know what he is doing is wrong. Bad Sherlock! :P I love writing Mycroft, as a little side note. I miss writing him in more often; I have oddly found him as a wonderful source of comedy relief. He's oddly a sweet man in an unorthodox way I think. And Of course I had to weasel in the pastries! :D I have to make sure Molly doesn't make an overnight change, ya know?! That would be far too drastic, but I understand, it would be too simple letting her become strong overnight and as Sherlock would say, "Boring!" :P Also, I will do my best to keep doubting Molly at bay. :)

**Kathmak:** I know I teetered on Molly becoming too harsh, which is why I brought her back to Bart's. She needed to be grounded! :D I know some people were not happy with how she was treating Sherlock, and I didn't realize it myself until after I read it a couple times. Yet, I wanted that effect, but I told you that, already. Hehe I wanted Molly to feel guilt, just like Sherlock did, when John and Mary came over, so I'm glad you liked it! And I can't wait for the reunion either, and I'm writing it! Squeeeee! :D

**Ellemonster:** I know, right?! I wish someone gave me an awesome flat after leaving their brother in the dust. Haha With a brand new wardrobe and all! That's what I look forward to! Molly's new wardrobe around Sherlock. Woohoo! Hahaha

**Silkenslay: **I'm happy she's going back too! Well, I don't want Sherlock to grovel too much, he may become bored or irritated, and you know how he can get. I would love for her to drive him crazy. I like Molly having the power for once, its fun. Hehe. Thank you! I am so happy you liked the chapter! And 10 too! :D I will write as fast as my fingers allow! :D

**Louvreangel:** I have been debating this myself, my friend, I don't like the girl, and neither does Molly. But that may be harsh. We will see what unfolds! :D And yes, she ruined the place… RUINED! ARRRRGHHH! Ahem… sorry.

**Niafadra: **I'm glad you're happy Molly's back! :D Yay! I always worry that when it comes to Sherlock I may not do well, I'm so glad you liked my take on it. I can't wait how it plays out between the two of them as well! :D only time will tell, yes?! And YES! I'm glad someone ELSE loves Mycroft! I find him a good source of comedy relief. His diet is three sheets to the wind. So far gone. Hahaha :D

**Poodle warriors:** and good things will happen! I promise you! :D

**AdaYuki:** I can't wait to WRITE Sherlock's reaction to Molly's return! Hahaha :D

**221silentwordsnotspoken: **Oh! Hahaha Thank you so much! Well lucky for you, you didn't have to wait long, and you got two! :D

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**Okay everyone! Thank you for your wonderful patience on what seems to be the most slow paced story in all of history when it comes to fluff, no? I apologize. Haha I promise you, it'll be well worth the wait when the time comes. I love fluff and Sherlolly love, so don't fret! It will come! I just needed to build the wonderful strong foundation on which their love will conquer! Hahahaha**

**I hope you all have enjoyed everything so far! Also, if you have become impatient waiting for steamy Sherlolly-ness, you could read my other story in the meantime ****_The Doctor and Detective _****which has some serious steamy bits, no doubt. I have seemed to take somewhat of a hiatus on it though and for my other loyal readers who do read it, I sincerely apologize! :( haha**

**Well on with the chapter! :D**

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John and Mary stayed until about two talking about all of the hilarious scenarios of what could possibly happen once Sherlock would find out Molly was once at Bart's again. John tried to not stare at Molly's obvious excitement at being at Bart's once more.

Molly said her goodbyes to the happy couple. She didn't want to keep them too long. She knew they wanted to have the little time they had together as she knew sooner or later John would have to force Sherlock to take on cases so as to not become 'bored' and start shooting the walls. Molly could only imagine how the man felt. Not taking cases or going to the lab, thinking about it thoroughly, she never truly thought much on the impact of her leaving Bart's would effecthim .

According to John he wasn't taking cases because of the risk of going to the lab, or at least take ones interesting enough that would inevitably cause him a trip to the lab, and if per chance some did happen to cause this, he would send John down to grab whatever Sherlock may need to perform whatever he could at home, which wasn't much.

Then his experiments had to be taking a blow as well. After all, he wasn't getting any parts from Molly, and he definitely wasn't getting any from Jennifer, since the sheer mention of the woman's name seemed to only make the man seethe. Part of that made her happy, which she felt bad for. She was conflicted. She should feel bad, because Jennifer was nice, but she ruined her lab! Now Molly had to fix it all over again! Molly sighed as she went to the den to try to unwind.

She couldn't decide whether to paint on her easel, or to play the cello today.

"Maybe a bit of both." She hummed out. She waltzed over to the cello and positioned her petite frame just behind her wonderful instrument and began playing a wonderful tune off the top of her head. It wasn't really anything special and it wasn't any concerto at all really, it was just notes strewn together in her mind that she liked. It made no sense, but it helped her unwind. They didn't form a song, but she supposed if it were anything, it was the song of her heart. She swayed on the chair; eyes closed humming the melodic tune to herself while tapping her foot, the bridge of the cello laying lightly against her breast bone.

She felt a calmness rush over her at the comfort of it. She hadn't done this in years. Her hands seemed to move effortlessly over the strings like they had done it every day. She wondered if it were like this for Sherlock when he played his violin. Then she remembered his light fingers gracing her sides as they danced in the club. Her breathing became deeper at the thought and she had chills at the sensations. She could feel his hands ghosting over her hips and pulling her closer. She moaned lightly as her eyes fluttered and she pulled the cello tighter to her body.

She tilted her head to the side as she imagined his feather light kisses on her neck and she let out a sigh as her notes on the instrument became lighter and breezier to match her mood. She could almost feel his breath. She missed him so much. She supposed playing an instrument such as a string only reminded her of him and it made her picture him even more so. She saw him by his window, a dark silhouette of curls pulling the wonderful bow he held so delicately in his one hand across the strings of his violin, just as his other hand plucked lightly at the strings. She moaned as she saw his eyes gleam at her the way they did that night in her mind, with desire. That night she knew that's what it was, but she had no clue what to do which was why she pushed him away. She almost wanted to slap herself for being so foolish for seeing those wonderful blue eyes gaze at her with such hunger.

She had stopped playing now. Her right hand lax against her thigh, bow still in hand, and her left was lazily running her fingers up and down the strings, as if waiting for a response. Her head had been tilted back against the chair with her mouth slightly agape slight breaths coming out each moment. What a sight.

"Am I interrupting something?" She heard a regal voice break her wonderful thought and her head snapped up immediately and she peeped to only to be graced by the presence of a Holmes, just not the one she had been hoping for.

"Oh, Mycroft… well, hello." Molly tried to say casually, but that obviously didn't come. She stepped up from her chair and pulled down her dress which she hadn't realized hiked all the way up her thighs from the way she was sitting with the cello. This caused her to blush an even deeper shade of red.

"I won't tell Sherlock if you won't." Mycroft joked. He joked?

"I—what? I have no idea what—"

"Oh, please Miss Hooper, I know your..._affections_ for my little brother. They are quite apparent, after all." Mycroft said to Molly leaving the den to head to the kitchen.

"Right then…" She heaved a sigh in defeat and was headed towards the kitchen to begin making a kettle of tea and spotted Anthea on the sofa.

"Hey." She said typing away on her mobile.

"…Hey…" Molly said warily. After all Molly had only met the woman once and it was the day after she moved into her flat, and the woman did absolutely nothing to help her with getting off her floor.

"You have any more pastries?" Mycroft seemed to peek out from the refrigerator. It was so un-Mycroft like to see him in such a way. When had anyone ever seen him like this? Yet, what could Molly judge? She could say she had seen Sherlock like this though and it almost made her giggle. Mycroft must've picked up on his sudden change of demeanor, because he straightened his back stiffly and looked at her pointedly.

"No pastries then." He tried saying without a pout.

"If you don't mind staying around for about thirty minutes I could make some fresh baked ones, and you could take some home." Molly chimed.

Ah, there's the Holmes sparkle. Sherlock got it when he learned something new about a case; Mycroft got it when he learned something about him receiving fresh baked pastries for him, apparently. Surely he got excited for other things as well.

As promised, Molly made enough pastries to last for a week, or in Mycroft's case, three days. Sherlock surely will have something to say about his infamous diet now.

She packed him a nice little to-go tin and set in on the coffee table for when he was ready to go. In the meantime, she brought out a tray with a kettle of tea for three and some fresh pastries along with little sandwiches, always the gracious host Molly was.

"So, what's up Mycroft?" Molly said to him casually.

Mycroft looked at her almost disgusted by her informality, so much so that even Anthea took a moment to look away from her phone in surprise. Molly widened her eyes a bit and covered her mouth and giggled.

"Oh, sorry." She cleared her throat. "Ah-he-he-hem… Par-don me sir… for what do I owe the pleeaasuure?" Molly exaggerated the last word and made sure to ask him in her most posh accent for full effect. He narrowed his eyes.

"If you didn't know how to bake…" he whispered. "I came to drop off your new badge for St. Bartholomew's, Miss Hooper." He said dripping with formality.

"Well… why thank ya sir." She almost couldn't hold back the giggle. She hoped she could be this way with the consulting detective. After all the man in front of her was practically the British government and she was mocking him! But, she didn't love Mycroft. He sighed.

"You start you normal shift on Monday. The woman that took your place, a Miss... Jennifer Hanley? It seems? Will not be staying. Monday will be her last day. She will only be there to let you know of any changes that happened to the lab in your absence." Mycroft stated.

"Which just happened to be _everything..."_Molly grumbled. She swore she saw the slightest smirk on the older Holmes' face.

"Your pay will not change, and you can keep the flat, courtesy of... well, honestly... nothing. That is quite strange, is it not? John has seemed to make me soft as well. Sherlock's companions cannot rub off on me." Mycroft chimed in taking a sip of his tea.

"Hey! You said we would be even if I kept you in an unlimited supply of fresh pastries! I'll even take requests!" Molly said. There went the sparkling eyes again. "Truly. You can tell me what you like, and I would be more than happy to make the treats for you, Mycroft. It would be the least I could do." Molly said sheepishly.

"Well, I suppose that will have to be an adequate arrangement until I find something else that may suffice." He concluded. Anthea did everything but scoff. Mycroft gave her a side glance. A warning possibly?

"Thank you again, Mycroft." Molly said. As she took a sip from her tea and a bite of her biscuit.

"I look forward to my little brother's reaction at your return Miss Hooper. Good day." He said to her finishing up his tea and grabbing his tin waiting for Anthea by the door.

"So do I, Mycroft." Molly said sincerely.

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John felt it necessary to go see Sherlock to make sure the man didn't lose his mind at the lack of information he seemed to not be intaking. He also truly wanted to tell Sherlock about Molly's return because he knew her being away was the root of what was truly hurting him, yet he did promise her he wouldn't say a word.

Once he got back to Baker street he found Sherlock sitting on his chair with his knees pulled up to his chin watching crap telly screaming at the people on screen.

"No! c'mon! Why on _earth _would you pick the red one?! Are you blind woman?!" Sherlock seemed to yell with such fervor.

"What the _hell _are you watching?" John tried to sound upset at his outburst, but he truly found him being upset at such trivial things comical.

"Apparently this American show called "The Price is Right" these people are nothing but buffoons." Sherlock spat as he angrily shut the telly off with the remote.

"All right, all right, it's not the clicker's fault." John said. And Sherlock looked at him oddly for using such a strange word for remote.

"A… _what?"_ Sherlock said to John questioning him.

"A clicker—Oh no… no Sherlock. Not now." John tried with great willpower to hide what he thought were sure signs of his night with Mary and his eventual morning with Mary and Molly, but he had no idea what to hide. Was it something on his shirt, hair on his pants he couldn't see? A smell he didn't notice? The way he carried himself? He never knew what Sherlock knew to look for, and frankly, Sherlock had been off a case for a very, very long time and is probably fearing he may be rusty, so… that meant John will be his new guinea pig. His experiment that he can't have because Molly's gone or now will probably discover is coming back because he is so damn brilliant and no one can hide a damn thing from.

"Where were you today?" Sherlock said casually.

"With Mary." John said automatically. _Dammit, I answered too quickly. _John thought.

"What are you hiding from me.?" Sherlock asked, even more causally, yet standing up this time. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, blue silk pajamas, and his blue silk dressing gown. John almost became depressed at the thought of when Sherlock might have worn one of his impeccable suits. He honestly couldn't remember. Molly had done a number on him, he knew that whether Sherlock admitted to himself or not, he missed their petite pathologist and it showed on both parties.

They both tried hiding it well, but the signs were there. John knew the both of them well enough to know when they had lack of sleep. He may not have been Sherlock, but he could tell by looking at Molly that she was over working herself and it wasn't because she had a huge work load, it was because she wanted her mind off of a certain detective. His speculation on the matter was only sated at breakfast this morning when she admitted to missing his flat mate, and frankly he was happy she decided to come back. She hid the sadness well, possibly because she had so many years of perfecting it.

Sherlock on the other-hand was like a sulking teenager. He played sad concertos, laid on the sofa for all hours, never changing his clothes, barely showering, or leaving the flat, barely eating unless forced. He would only take cases if he were forced, and only if they were extremely important and didn't involve the lab, which sounds more difficult than one might imagine. Frankly John knew he would've been upset at Molly's departure, but never knew he would've taken it so horribly. Yet he assumed it was because he discovered he truly cared for the once mousy pathologist, because Molly was mousy no more. She was fiery and brazen, John knew Sherlock had to know that by now by her wonderful display in the restaurant just two nights ago. Aside from shocking him, he was sure it hurt him more than anything. He thought that was what bothered him the most. Then Molly confessed that she loved him this morning. John always knew she loved Sherlock, but hearing her saying it was almost ridiculous and laughable. Living with the man for as long as John had, and knowing how the man truly was, knowing how the man treated Molly over the years, and still managing to say she loved him only made him admire her for her dedication.

_The git better not mess up this time_ he thought.

"Nothing, why?" _Dammit!_ John chastised himself. _Have I learned nothing?!_

"If you were hiding nothing from me, you wouldn't ask why. You're asking why because you are insecure and truly want to tell me what you are hiding, but promised you wouldn't. It isn't something life-threatening, or you would tell me so it'll come out in time. I suppose it is nothing that would cause me distress, seeing how well _that_ went for you not too long ago." Sherlock jibed. John flinched at the mention of when Sherlock found out Molly was gone. Watching that unfold for Sherlock was like watching his world collapse, part of him wondered if it had.

"So…" Sherlock continued. "I will not bother you with the subject. I assume I will find out in my own time I suppose." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively walking towards the kitchen to perhaps grab a few slices of cheese. It seemed to be the only snack they had in the fridge.

"I'm sorry, what?" John said with disbelief in his voice.

Sherlock audibly groaned and did indeed grab a few slices of cheese and plopped down onto the sofa, folded the food and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Do you want me to deduce you to pieces? Because I can." He said mouth full of cheese. John had to stifle a laugh.

"No… no. It's quite all right." John added as he sat down and fished the newest paper from the pile on the table and unfolded it and began to read. He quickly looked to Sherlock on his right and saw his hands steepled under his chin, the same expression on his face he had the night John left, from the night Molly and Sherlock had dinner. He was sad.

"I miss her, John."

Sherlock said, and it was nearly a whisper. John almost asked him to say it again because he thought it was his mind playing tricks. He thought it was his subconscious waiting for it to finally fill in what John had already known the man felt for the woman, but he knew it was real. What should he say? What could he say? Well… I guess there is one thing he could say that could possibly give him the hope that would make him never give up. To know to keep hanging on, and in truth, he would still be keeping his promise to Molly.

"She misses you too, Mate."

John added and stuck his nose immediately into the paper avoiding his best friend's gaze. Sherlock's eye's shot up and bored holes through the paper, John could feel it, and he tried his best to not waver under his scrutiny, to not look up from the writing. _Burglary at high end London Jewelry store... interesting... he's still staring... Lestrade worked on the case... was probably bored. He won't stop staring..._John began shifting in his chair and turned the page_. Oh, a few movies came out this week. Mary wanted to see that. Sherlock please stop shooting daggers through me... I really don't want to see a romance movie though. Maybe if I take her to dinner, I can convince her to go to an action film? Probably not..._

"JOHN!" Sherlock yelled finally grabbing his blogger's attention.

"_WHAT?! _Couldn't you see I was reading?!" John yelled back with just as much gusto.

"You were not, you were avoiding me!" he said as his voice began to elevate. He was beginning to panic.

"Of course I was avoiding you! I was expecting you to be all Sherlock and scoff me off and go 'heh, well of course she misses me'!" John said as he dove back into the paper.

Sherlock fumed at this and in two long strides faced his blogger and snatched the paper right from his hands and looked him in the eyes.

"What do I do John?! I don't miss _anyone!_ But I can't! She's in my mind, all over..." he began pacing in front of the fire place. "I became so pompous and arrogant of her affections and assumed they were only for me..." he said weakly as he turned away from John looking at the skull on his mantle. "I never truly realized the damage I caused her John, until she inflicted it upon me." he said to his friend sitting down on his chair feeling quite awkward with nothing in hand.

"What do you mean?" John asked cautiously.

"At dinner..." Sherlock laughed bitterly, "I flirted with Molly shamefully, and what I had not expected was that-"

"She slapped you." John finished.

"Yes, but—how did you know that?" Sherlock turned to him baffled. "We'll dwell on that later." He continued. "That was not it. I shamefully flirted with her, in hopes of her coming back to Bart's, not that it wasn't all sincere... but it was empty, you see?" he looked at John, eyes pleading that he would understand. John urged him to go on and make his point. "Well, what I did not expect was that... well, she did the same... to me." he finished and the words left his mouth quietly and the room sat still.

"I'm sorry? You're upset that Molly gave you a... a pity flirt?" It took everything in John to not laugh. Sherlock shot him a glance and his eyes were almost glassy. John's eyes widened from the emotion on his face. He hadn't realized his friend had fallen so hard and so quickly for their pathologist.

"I always thought that what I did was harmless, yet when she did it to me... it, well it..."

"Sucked?" John smiled.

"Yes, I supposed it 'sucked' would be a sufficient word." Sherlock concluded.

"Now it shouldn't surprise you why she left then." John added almost in a reprimanding tone as if saying 'I HOPE YOU LEARNED YOUR LESSON'

"It doesn't. And It wouldn't surprise me if she never came back either." he said as he plopped himself into his chair letting out a huff with the air of the chair. John let out a breath from such a confession.

He was beating himself up. It was true, he probably should. He treated Molly horribly over the years, and if he loved her or not, he should worship the ground she walked on for all the things she does for him as a friend and associate. The woman has been there for him when no one else would be, and that is why Molly is coming back, because no matter what, Molly will always come back to Sherlock.

"I'll go make some tea." John said absently as he stood up from the chair to walk to the kitchen and put some water in the kettle.

"You saw Molly today, didn't you." Sherlock said. It wasn't a question. John looked at his friend. He truly hated seeing him in such a way, what was he supposed to do? He thought saying that she missed him would make things better, but it only seemed to make things worse. Would telling him the truth do the same?

"Yeah, I did." he said looking at the man fleetingly as he went back to prepping the tray trying to gather whatever snacks he could from the kitchen they could nibble on.

"Is she well?" his voice faltered a bit. Emotion was such a rare suit on Sherlock it was almost frightening. John almost missed the expressionless face of his normal companion who would sit across from him and drink tea most evenings, but this was the real Sherlock, the human.

"Yeah, happy." He flinched. "But, as I said... she misses you, a lot." he scoffed. "I'm serious Sherlock. Couldn't you tell if I were lying?" John said seriously and looked his best friend in the eyes. Sherlock looked him over in the dark room, Sherlock had opted for the fireplace tonight, John swore he loved dramatics. He looked at everything from his furrowed brows to his combed hair, to his creased sleeves, then he let out a sigh.

"You're right. At least I still got it." Sherlock said almost playfully. John chuckled.

"Well, I'm gonna hit the hay. See ya in the morning? Goodnight Sherlock. Do get some rest, please. If not for me, then for her." John added at the end while standing at the frame between the sitting room and the kitchen. Before he turned around he saw Sherlock's brows rise slight and he gave him a curt nod.

"Night John." He said. "Oh... and John?" Sherlock called to the short blonde at the head of the steps all he received was a 'hmm' letting him know he heard him.

"What were you hiding from me?" he asked in an almost childish voice.

John slowly walked back in to the kitchen so that Sherlock could see him clearly.

"Patience is a virtue, Sherlock, and one of which you will surely be rewarded, I promise you. Good night." John smiled and headed towards his bedroom leaving Sherlock sitting on his leather chair, a smug smile playing on his lips.


	13. Chapter 13: Such Morbid Humor

**Chapter 13**

**I know two chapters! Oh my gooodddddddd! But I felt that the last one was wrapped up wonderfully in a pretty bow,so I didn't want to extend it any further, but I also didn't want to keep you wanting for the REVEAL! - Okay don't read that T_T hahaha I love you guys and thanks for the reviews! Also, apparently, I have a thing called a tumblr, and I never used it until about a week or so ago, and if you guys wish to follow me, (no pressure) honestly, cause I barely use it, feel free! Shepard-commander87 ! :D **

**I hope you like it all!**

**Also any suggestions! I really don't mind! I love hearing from my readers, I truly do! Because I love you all!**

**On with the show, yes?! :DDDDDD**

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St. Bart's... It had felt like she had never left, aside from the two straight 11 hour shifts she had spent trying to get everything back to working order. Molly couldn't believe the state the lab was in when she came back. She honestly didn't understand how Jennifer worked in the lab at all. Part of her wondered if she even did.

Molly was extremely happy she kept personal files of all of her cases she had worked on at Bart's on a backup, because it seemed that they had been misplaced somehow with the moving of her office supplies that seemed to take no less than twenty four hours to accomplish according to John.

Molly's boss, Mike Stamford was more than happy to have his old pathologist back, and Molly was more than happy to be back and still be able to keep the old pay grade she had received. The perks she got from Mycroft just seemed to be piling up and up. She smiled. She still has a few shelves to re arrange, and she would get to that in a little bit, it was a slow week, it was a Wednesday; she told John that he had to keep Sherlock out until at least today in hopes that the lab would be back to its old splendor before he waltzed back in, but she wasn't so sure. She was emanating angry vibes just thinking about Jennifer and all the things she had done to her precious lab and morgue, she couldn't believe it. Moving all of her supplies for the petri dishes that would be used for the microscopes and the pipettes on the other side of the room of where the actual equipment was, her organization just made no sense. It was like she purposely did it to frustrate those around her aside from herself.

She stepped into her office and sat in her old wooden leather chair. They painted her room peach this time, she tired of the pink and liked this color much better. The sofa Mike saved for her, thankfully. She loved the thing, and knew Sherlock secretly did too. He would come in here and sit on it when he needed time to think.

When Molly went back out to the morgue area to check on her instruments, her phone began beeping in her lab coat.

"Doctor Molly Hooper." she answered in the most professional manner she could muster.

_"Molly? It's Greg! How are you?! I hear you're back at Bart's!" _He said happily into the phone.

"Ah, yes I am! But it's a surprise, so no telling Sherlock, all right?" she smiled at the phone.

_"Right, of course, of course! About bloody time! I was tired of him sulking. John told me you were back on Monday. I have a body coming in, could you examine it? Not sure the cause of death. Sherlock and John will probably have to come in as well, John'll drag him in." _Greg laughed into the phone.

"Of course! I haven't had a good autopsy in months! Oh, sorry." she mumbled and Greg laughed almost uncomfortably at her morbid humor that so few people understood. _Sherlock would've laughed. _ She thought. She became anxious thinking about him. She knew she could handle being around him, but her feelings have not changed. She was sure her eyes would still shine bright, and that he would still be oblivious to it. Yet she could bask in the fact of knowing that she would be in control of her emotions, and that would be what was important.

She was happy she chose to wear what she did today. Ever since Mycroft so kindly gave her the flat, he by association gave her the amazing wardrobe that came with it. Today she wore a deep hunter green button up top that was form fitting and flattered her figure nicely, along with a simple black pencil skirt and a pair of black pumps. It was professional, but sexy and helped with her confidence when she would face the detective. He would be on her turf, and on her terms, and that's what would matter.

As Molly waited for the body to get here, she decided to fix the top shelves of the lab. They were a little difficult to reach, but she wanted everything back to where it used to be, and even Jennifer took the time out to re-arrange everything here as well. That made Molly even angrier. Molly climbed up on the stool as she began switching the empty jars from shelf to shelf. As she was on the stepping stool, she thought she heard voices from down the hall.

"No John, I don't want to..." One voice said. Her heart began to race.

"It's for a case, Sherlock. We have to, c'mon!" John added. Molly relaxed a bit.

"But I don't want to deal with _her..." _he seethed. They were just outside the door. Her heart dropped. _Her. _Oh, Jennifer. Right. Silly Molly. She giggled at her foolishness.

"I don't think Jennifer is in today." John added cheekily. Molly could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"What do you mean she's not in today? Well, thank goodness!" Sherlock shouted as he swung the doors open and sauntered into the morgue. Molly didn't realize how close she had been to the entrance until the door hit the stool and knocked her off. She yelped in surprise and the two men looked up as Sherlock instinctively reached out to her and caught her before she fell. Before the entire situation could fully register, they silently looked at one another almost in disbelief in one another's presence, yet they somehow knew they would be here. They smiled almost instantly.

"Molly..." He breathed. Looking down at the petite form in his arms; he thought of how she seemed to fit so perfectly, and how bright her eyes were shining. He admired her lean legs as they lay across his left arm perfectly tan and supple, he couldn't stop thinking about their softness. He took in what she was wearing. She looked so beautiful. The green accented her eyes in the warmest way and made her look even more wholesome. The skirt gave her the appearance of professionalism, yet still gave her the confidence that she needed along with the heels. He most definitely approved. Lastly, he looked back to her face. A smile graced her lips, not a grimace or a frown, she was happy to see him, and that simple gesture caused his chest to tighten with emotions he could not yet describe, not even to himself. He had to be careful though, he did not want to scare her away.

"Hello Sherlock." Molly let out of her mouth almost gracefully. He seemed to be almost surprised at her casualness. He could tell she was trying to keep herself composed. He could see her pulse fluttering at the nape of her neck, just wear the first two buttons of her top had been undone. It made him wonder if she had purposely left the top open, or if she were warm. His mind was trying to overthink the situation while holding his pathologist in his arms so he didn't have to face the emotions that were so obviously bubbling just below the surface.

Then it hit him.

His pathologist.

Molly.

_His pathologist. _

_His Molly._

Was in Bart's. She was in Bart's.

He surveyed the room slowly and he let out a small chuckle. It truly was Bart's. it was Bart's. _His _Bart's. _Molly's _Bart's! He looked down at the woman and saw he quirk her head to the side and all he could do was smile.

Molly looked at him as it slowly began to sink in. Still perched in his arms, she was quite comfortable, but she was sure Greg would be coming soon, and knew that it would be one hell of a story to explain.

"Uhm… Sherlock?" She looked at him inquisitively head tilted to the side as if she noticed the changed in his many expressions racing across his face. Surprise, embarrassment, happiness, shock, happiness once more. Possible she did notice all of those emotions.

He finally realized he was holding his pathologist much longer than he necessarily had to, but he really didn't mind. She wasn't that heavy, quite comfortable actually. This could've been quite nice if John wasn't grinning like a Cheshire cat in the corner.

"Right—of course." He gently placed her down on the ground and walked slowly through the room letting out a breath of relief. He lightly graced his fingers across the work stations of the lab and shot his eyes back to Molly and she looked him surprised. They were gleaming.

"You have impeccable memory, Molly. Everything is almost in exactly the same place as when you left. I am thoroughly impressed!" He smiled as he nearly spun around the room and took in a gulp of stale air.

"I just love the smell of cadavers in the morning, don't you agree, Doctor Hooper?" He strode over to her quickly clasping his hands around hers. His eyes sparked in colors of blue-green. She giggled at his child-like wonder at being back at Bart's again. She truly couldn't blame him; she was just as happy at being back at her old morgue, with her old friends, and her old office, and with Sherlock.

"Couldn't have said it better myself Mr. Holmes." She added and they laughed heartily at their own morbid humor.

"John, could you fetch us some coffee? I believe Molly and I have a few things to discuss. " he began saying a little more seriously as he turned away from John's glare almost as if saying 'yes I know it's too soon, but better now than never'.

John looked at the man's back wide-eyed and let out a sigh. "Fine… all right." I'll be back. Molly." He bowed his head in leaving and Molly did the same.

As John left the morgue and the room somehow became even more silent. Molly refused to shuffle her feet or fiddle with her hands, that's what old Molly Hooper would've done. Although, he wanted to talk, shouldn't he initiate?

She waited about another minute and not a word. She saw him look around the lab almost frantically while frequently stealing glances in her direction, somehow thinking she wouldn't notice, even though they were quite obvious, or at least she thought.

_Maybe he did want me to start the conversation…_

"You needed to talk to me, Sherlock?" Molly asked simply enough. Her voice was even and calm. Sherlock looked at her pointedly and he seemed unprepared to hear her voice. He looked at her closely and turned his head away quickly chastising himself under his breath.

"I believe I…" He began.

"You, what?" she continued trying to egg him on.

"That well I…" Sherlock looked at her quickly and looked away just as fast. He was _nervous. _Her eyes widened at the prospect. Sherlock Holmes was never nervous. He began pacing.

"I don't say this very often and mean it Molly, so please know that me doing it is not incredibly easy…" He let out a breath.

"All right..." she encouraged him. He looked to her and was only greeted with her eyes, filled with warmth. Why was he nervous? What was he scared of? If he were to be nervous or scared of anyone, or anything, Molly Hooper certainly should not be it.

"I—I am sorry." He said to her as he moved in closely. She looked into his eyes searching for sincerity in his words, but she knew she didn't need to. She knew he meant it.

"I have never been sorrier about anything in my entire life." He continued. Her breath hitched in her throat and her chest tightened at such words tumbling from his mouth.

"When I found out you were gone, I didn't just miss the morgue, or the experiments… I truly missed _you_ Molly Hooper." He grabbed her hands into his and held on to them so tightly she thought they would lose circulation.

She could feel his heart racing under his chest. Knowing his heart was like an echo of hers made it almost impossible for her to breathe. She looked into his eyes and he began chuckling because he knew if he hadn't tears would most likely fall, and that he would most certainly not allow.

"Sherlock…" Molly managed to choke out, she looked away from him. The emotions were so overwhelming for her at the moment; she didn't quite know what to do. She missed him so much, and the last thing she expected was for him to admit he had feelings too.

He lifted his hand from one of hers on his chest and put his finger under Molly's chin so he could look at her.

"Please don't hide from me. I have lived far too long from those eyes because of my own ignorance. Even if I only see them as your friend, do not hide such love and beauty from me." He whispered.

She gasped. A single tear dropped from her cheek. This scenario felt so familiar. She almost wondered if it was another one of her delusional hazes that had been induced by Mycroft. She had hoped not.

She looked up at him. They were so close, so incredibly close, that it would make absolute sense to kiss, right? They confessed their mutual attraction to one another, not even attraction, but Sherlock had confessed his _feelings_ not only had he confessed his feelings, he confessed he had feelings. They moved slightly closer to one another breath mingling across their lips. Molly tried her best to not allow her eyes to flutter close because, then she would not be able to see his face, the face of wonderment, of knowing what it would be like to kiss Sherlock Holmes.

He took hold of her tightly and pulled her close breathing her scent in. the same as always, pomegranate. He would have to thank Mycroft for at least not changing her toiletries, he's not sure what that would do to him, it would throw everything off about his pathologist. It was enough her hair was short and that her clothes were tight, although that was a bonus, he begrudgingly admitted.

He ran his nose lightly against her ear and she shivered against him. She allowed her open palm to run across the expanse of his chest. He was wearing a Cobalt shirt today. The color did wonders for his skin and hair. His pants seemed to be a dark navy, which her other hand seemed to roam lightly on his behind. She was subtle not sure of what his reaction may be, but apparently he approved. She smiled against his neck as his grip tightened around her.

"I must say, I certainly approve of you new wardrobe…" he growled lightly kissing her ear.

"Thank you." She smiled approvingly.

"Although…" he said, and she almost pouted. "What?" she snapped.

"I do miss the jumper with the cherries." He said nostalgically, pulling back to look her in the eyes to see her giggle. Her laugh was whimsical to him, he could almost drink it in, he loved the sound, so melodic, he wondered if she could sing, he imagined she could, and fairly well. She placed her right hand on his cheek and her left at the nape of his neck.

"I still have it." She said playfully.

"Maybe you can wear it for me sometime." He said into her hair.

She pulled his face to her and purred. "Maybe I will." And kissed him fully. He moaned lightly in surprise by her action, but recovered quickly. He most certainly had not expected her to kiss him first. He thought the playing would continue for a bit, he quite enjoyed that. She broke the kiss as quickly as it came and she laughed at the noticeable pout on Sherlock's face.

"John's coming back." Molly whispered as she left Sherlock's embrace and headed over to one of the work stations pretending to straighten the papers she had stacked on top up. He tried hiding the fact that he missed her warmth; he was hoping he played it off well.

"Bloody hell damn queue for at the cafeteria was too long, so I went out to the café across the street and grabbed us some coffee there instead. Tastes better anyway." John said as he handed Sherlock and Molly their respective beverages.

"Thanks John." Molly said warmly, and her nodded in response Sherlock merely hmm'ed his gratitude as he took a sip of his hot beverage.

"So, what do you think about the cause of death, Sherlock? John said, mouth full of danish, he bought a dozen or so apparently and placed them on the counter.

"I have no idea, John. That is why we are here, waiting for Lestrade so we can have Molly—" He looked over to her and smiled "do an autopsy and a toxicology report. By the way Molly, where is the _new _microscope?" Sherlock said moping. Molly was proud of herself for this one. She would never allow anyone to rid Sherlock Holmes of his precious microscope. Ever.

She pointed him in the direction of the 'new' microscope and watched him walk over. As he walked over to the area of the lab where the microscope sat, petri dishes graced the corner alone with beakers and miscellaneous other things that would be necessary such as a computer for research on any findings that may be found while perform a toxicology report.

Sherlock walked over slowly to the microscope in question and graced his fingers along it ever so lightly. He turned on the bottom lights and looked at Molly and smiled.

"You two want to be alone?" She chuckled.

"You got them to keep my microscope… how?" his smile grew even wider. He slowly walked closer to Molly reaching for her in anticipation of her answer.

"All old equipment must go through surplus before being finally tossed away, to see if it could be used in some other part of the hospital. I made sure before leaving to let Mike know to not officially get rid of _anything…especially_ the microscope." She finished quite seriously.

He smiled warmly at her and put his hands on her cheeks.

"You are never allowed to ever leave again Molly Hooper, do you understand?" Sherlock laughed.

"Well I believe that is quite unfair. What if I win the Lottery and wish to become a world famous composer or artist?" she poked.

"Oh, balls! You'd bore of it in a day. You know you live for the excitement of it, just like I do… as well as helping others. Which is why I need you, Molly." He said softly.

"…_Need _me?" she gulped. John stood on the side taking in the entire scenario. And Sherlock waved his hand dismissively.

"Yes please do not make me say it again. And please do wipe that shocked expression off your face John! Or better yet—" He said before he reached down and firmly kissed Molly quickly on the lips as he was rewarded with a surprised peep from the petite woman in front of him. "Thank you." He whispered. She smiled.

_"Now_ wipe the shocked expression off your face, yes?" Sherlock smirked as he let go of Molly and went out to meet the voices of who could only be Anderson, Donovan and Lestrade.

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Wooooo! I hope you liked it all! It seriously took me forever to write it and I wanted some fluff! I will get into the rules of Sherlock and Molly's work 'engagement' in the next chapter, because I promise you she will not just bend to his will, but I wanted some fluffiness, so don't kill me! Hahahaha I hope you like it! Look out for more! And follow me on tumblr! Cause I have a tumblr now, tumblrs are cool 8adjusts bowtie* shepard-commander87.

Love! :D


	14. Chapter 14: Back to Basics

**Chapter 14**

**Heyoo Eveyone! I'm back! I am trying to get out of whatever rut I seem to be in, and it is driving me inSANE! I appreciate all the reviews and love for the last two chapters. I may be on a little break after this chapter, only so I can finally finish the prompt and finally get out a chapter for my other fanfic that I seem to be neglecting so much. **

**ALSO—I will probably be wrapping this up in a couple more chapters… maybe three more? I don't want it to drag on forever, and I don't like leaving everything open. So I will try and end it beautifully. Hopefully. Haha **

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**4May: **I'm glad you liked that bit. I love writing in Mycroft bits so much! Also, exactly, nothing wrong with fluff. I miss the fluff! I love Sherlolly fluff! And yes, gotta give the readers what they want! *types furiously at keyboard*

**Crooney83: **I'm glad you loved it! Thank you for reading! :D

**MorbidbyDefault:** Yay! Thanks so much! I am so glad you liked it! :D

**SammyKatz:** I am so happy I surprised you with a second chapter! I know I don't do it often, so it's fun to see the reactions of my readers when I do! Haha

**AdaYuki:** I will write as soon as I can! I am writing so many fictions write now, it's almost insane! Haha But I love writing this piece, it's seemingly taking over my LIFE! Haha

**Kathmak:** Hahaha I had to have them on the same page at some point, and Yes… let the M ratings COMMENCE! :P

**Rocking the Redhead: **I'm so glad you were as excited as I am about two chapters! Haha and yes. I miss Molly at Bart's it's not the same without her. I'm sure we can all agree on that! Haha

**Renaissancebooklover108: **YAY! I hope it was a good kind of explosion and not a bad one, cause in that case then boo. Haha I love an explosion of happy feels—makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

**Louvreangel:**YES HE MISSEES HER. DAMN STRAIGHT HE DOES! Hahaha and YES. LET THE FANGIRLING COMMENCE. I don't believe there is such a thing a fluffiness overload. I always love the fluff. :D

**Poodle warriors:** I try to spoil sometimes! Haha And yes, I like my Sherlolly happiness. :D Thanks for reading! :D

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**Also, side note, I was surprised no one said anything about the cello scene! I was like 'damn… I LOVED that scene… especially Mycroft ruining it. Damn Mycroft and his frumpy self. Haha **

**On with the Show! :D**

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Molly had anticipated the meeting with Sherlock to go well, yet not nearly as well as it went. He had missed her, truly missed her. No one could miss the sincerity in those wonderful kaleidoscope eyes of his. She allowed the events of only about ten minutes ago to mull over in her head as Anderson and Donovan walked in talking to Sherlock and Lestrade. Apparently they have been receiving anonymous tips on previous cases that Sherlock had worked on. Molly was sadly dragged out of her thoughts when she began hearing the tall detective on the verge of screaming in her morgue.

"Lestrade, this is _insanity_! What on earth could ever make you think that I could be behind all of those murder cases?!" Sherlock began fuming.

"I never said you were, Sherlock. We just had a few people come in with what they assumed to have as evidence, and some… complaints to the higher ups." Lestrade concluded.

"Could only imagine who they came from." Molly added rather dryly. Sherlock looked at her eyes wide for a moment then smiled at her boldness. She was quite surprised herself, but did well at not allowing her features to show it.

"Well, I believe it's only fair that it should be something to look into." Anderson began sauntering forward trying to hold an air of superiority that he did not possess. "Also, since some complaints came from the autopsy reports as well. Saying you two… collaborated together." Anderson finished with a smirk. Molly looked at the man in front of her and saw nothing but red.

She walked forward in a very calm collected fashion, and very calmly, collectively, gracefully slapped the forensic in the face, the sound resonating through the room in an echo. Lestrade, John and Donovan looked on in amazement at her display as Sherlock simply crossed his arms in smug satisfaction.

"How… _dare_ you, you… slimey excuse for a forensic! Walk into _my _morgue, _my_ lab and accuse me of such slanderous allegations with no proof?!" Molly said to the man before her. He looked down at the petite woman eyes wide at her continuous outburst. He had assumed the slap would be it, but she seemed to not be done.

"You walk in here and accuse me of such, and Sherlock?!" She spared a glance in his direction and saw a look of what could only be described as betrayal. Not on hers, but on the ones he thought he could trust. He knew Donovan and Anderson doubted him, but Sherlock was like a child in many ways, he seeked approval from any source whether negative or positive, and didn't know how to handle when not receiving said praise. She felt a pang in the pit of her stomach, especially now after the moment the both of them had shared not too long ago. The thought of the two buffoons in front of her accusing Sherlock of such things made her only more angry.

"Where in the world—"

"Hey, now you watch your tone Molly! Just because you have a crush on the freak over there!" Donovan began interjecting her opinion on the petite pathologist.

Molly jerked her body around to face Sally Donovan head on. She saw John flinch back, as well as Sherlock and Lestrade from Sally's comment. Was the woman truly so dense?

"May I ask where you think you are, Detective Donovan?" Molly began in an even tone.

"What kind of question is that?" the woman said back snarky as ever.

"Do you truly believe that you, and Anderson of all people have the right to pass moral judgement on someone like Sherlock who has done nothing but help the Yard time and time again with nothing in return?" Molly began walking closer to the woman. Sally was taller than her, but what could she really do? She wouldn't do anything to Molly. Three men who were on her side were within five feet of the situation, and doubtfully would Anderson jump in to help Sally if Molly per chance started anything, not that Molly would, just per chance.

"Yet you are with a married man and have no qualms with it whatsoever. Believing that no one. _No one_ knows of it, and assume it is nothing? So, who are you Sally Donovan? Truly?" Molly questioned her. Sally began to become uncomfortable under Molly's gaze. She didn't quite know how to proceed.

"You are like a child, the both of you are, such is why you are so perfect together. The only thing you know of are empty insults. 'freak', really? You couldn't come up with something more creative in the years you've known the man? I've had a couple favorites." She stopped, turned to the detective and smiled; she saw a look of mock hurt on his face.

"Do not come into my morgue or lab again unless it is deemed absolutely necessary and until you both learn some damn manners for the people you work with!" Molly finally spat out and ended in a huff. John looked at the small woman and allowed a 'HA!' to escape from his mouth only to have it be immediately covered afterwards.

Lestrade looked at Molly, surprise not hidden from his features. "Moll, give me a call when you find out some info on the body. Maybe it's connected to the string of cases that have been reported to be 'tampered' with, yeah?" He looked at the small woman and a smile graced his features. He was glad Molly was back for many reasons. He didn't have to rely on Anderson, or that woman Jennifer, whom he didn't really care for, and he got Sherlock back which seemed to be a bonus, not to mention the man seemed to be simply beaming at the events unfolding before him. The detective's eyes were bright taking in the entire scenario, looking from him and Molly in interest. He seemed to be even holding back a hearty chuckle.

"Molly, John and I will be heading to Baker street at which point—John will decide halfway to our destination he'll want to go see Mary. I'll scoff and spend the rest of the night awaiting any information you may have for me on this case and anything else in regards to the 'tampered files'. If you would like to… perhaps join me this evening for coffee, or something to eat at Baker street—I would not object, quite the contrary." Sherlock finished as he walked up to his pathologist smiling down at her in anticipation of her answer.

"Oh, well I… I suppose?" Molly looked up at him and smiled weakly. She wanted to spend time with him, especially after what had happened just before Greg showed up, but she wanted things to progress slowly. She didn't want to fall back into the pit of being a mouse. She cleared her throat, "But I can't make any promises." Molly finished in a more firm tone. She saw the look Sherlock gave her and was one of disappointment.

"Of—of course, I understand." He said rather short as he nodded his head to her and began walking towards the morgue doors. "Either way, it's nice to have you back Molly." He said warmly to the small woman and she smiled brightly at his words.

"It's good to be back, Sherlock." She said finally and straightened herself to try and gain a sort of composure.

Molly unfortunately saw a long and arduous day ahead of her, but felt at home with the prospect of doing mundane file work at Bart's.

She went down to the records office to try to confiscate all the old files that she had of her old autopsies. It took about three hours to go through all of the paperwork that she had finally gotten a hold of before finally noticing that yes—almost all of the files that Sherlock had been involved in had been tampered with one way or another. She could only think of one possible explanation as to how this happened and immediately grabbed her phone to shoot off a text to the detective. As she began rapidly typing to him, her heart began to flutter in anticipation of a reply, which was silly since she had yet sent the text.

**Sherlock, Greg was right. Files were tampered with. **

**I'll be over tonight; I may need your help. Could you **

**Swing by Bart's?**

**Mollyx**

She sent the text and almost cursed herself for including an 'x' on her name. She gathered all the files and piled them onto her workstation near her signature tote bag so as not to forget. She went to grab the other files, the ones that had not been tampered with when her phone chirped with a reply. She picked it up and read the text.

**I'll be there within the hour. **

**-SH**

Molly smiled. She couldn't help it; she had missed the excitement so much in her life and looked forward to helping Sherlock solve this case. She couldn't believe someone had tried tampering with her files it made her mad that they would frame Sherlock, and by association her since she was the one who performed the autopsies. Molly typed her reply and put her phone down and went to put her other files back to where they belonged. She had nothing more to do aside except to wait for Sherlock, so that was pretty much what she did. She would at times look over her tools to make sure they were clean, look over the shelves to make sure everything was in order, but she mostly mulled over the events of earlier in the day. She was quite surprised that Sherlock had kissed her, so much so her face blushed at the thought.

Molly was lost in her thoughts when the detective sauntered into the lab only a sigh escaping from his mouth giving him away. Molly looked up and saw a slight smile on his face. She greeted him back accordingly.

"Sherlock, Thanks for coming." She began, "I found out someone had tampered with the files. Yet, they only tampered with the files that you worked on." She finished as she looked up to him. He seemed to look down at the files on the work station then to Molly, his brow quirked slightly, "How would you possibly know that they only tampered with the files that I worked on?" He asked genuinely curious. It was Molly's turn to look away.

"Molly…" He tried urging her on.

She looked up at him knowingly face flushed at what she was about to say. "I keep files of all your cases. Well, the ones we work on together anyway." She said to him.

"Well yes, you have to that is part of your job, the more boring part that you are not much a fan of, if I can remember." He began to smirk.

"No, I mean, I have a cabinet specifically set aside for all of the cases I have ever worked with you on, separated from all the other autopsies I have ever done." Molly said sheepishly trying to look away, yet she didn't miss the surprised look on Sherlock's face.

"You do?" he looked taken aback, and he sounded almost, flattered.

"Yes." She said to him trying not to be too embarrassed of the information.

"Well, it will make this much easier then! Molly, you are so, so clever. I did mention you are never allowed to leave Bart's again, correct?" Sherlock said to her as he grabbed her face and kissed her cheek with excitement. Molly looked back at the man in surprise of his display of affection. She giggled softly and looked up at him and cleared her throat.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to come." Molly said to Sherlock as she looked up at him expecting him to scoff, but he just urged her to continue. "I have back up files." Sherlock's eyes widened at this new information. "I know I'm not really supposed to, but I'm glad I did, especially now, that's why I always had so much paperwork. I have digital as well as paper backups of all the cases I have ever done—including yours." Molly looked up to him waiting for some sort of reaction, yet the one she got was not what she expected to receive. Sure she expected him to be pleased in some way, but she expected him to dismiss it and urge them onward with the case, not smile widely at the information and almost chuckle at the unexpected turn of events.

"Oh Molly, you are quite the woman, aren't you? I am truly sorry for ever underestimating you." He said to her rather deeply that it made Molly shiver.

"Oh… oh it's fine. Could you just come to my place and help me grab the files? We can take them to Baker street afterwards." Molly said looking up at the detective who was still smiling down at the small woman.

"We could just work at your place, Molly." Sherlock suggested.

"Uhm, I suppose so. Would that be all right with you?" Molly asked while she began packing up the files into her tote bag.

"It's perfectly fine." Sherlock concluded. "Shall we?" He said to the pathologist holding his arm out to her courteously. Molly nodded her head and they both walked out of the morgue together.

Needless to say, Sherlock was quite surprised at Molly's new location. When they arrived to her new flat, it took a moment to allow everything to sink in. The new décor, the color scheme, even the furniture was not Molly, it made Sherlock's skin itch in irritation for being somewhere so foreign. Granted he had never truly been to Molly's flat, but he supposed it would resemble her personality. He knew this flat was not her previous one—this one was the one Mycroft gave her and allowed her to keep. This still ran around in Sherlock's mind. He didn't understand why someone like his brother would allow Molly to keep everything he meant to only supply her with temporarily.

"So, how did you get my dear brother to allow you to keep the flat?" Sherlock said casually as he hung up his Belstaff and scarf. He watched Molly as she slipped off her shoes and placed her tote bag on the kitchen table and went to make the beginnings of a kettle of tea.

"Pastries." Molly said simply enough. She looked back at him and smiled with that piece of information. Sherlock titled his head in surprise and pride at what Molly was able to accomplish.

"Must be some good pastries then." He chuckled walking towards the kitchen.

"Some of the best. Those were his words not mine." Molly said to him as she turned around to face Sherlock, her back to the stove.

"Care for a tour?" Molly said cordially.

"I don't see why not. The files are here, I presume?" Sherlock asked as he followed Molly through the open sitting room down to the rooms on the left.

"Yes, of course. In the den. We'll go there last." Molly smiled. "This is the bathroom." Molly began, she looked up at Sherlock and tried to bite back a smile. She knew he hated formal things such as 'home tours' but here he was, biting the bullet so to speak to make Molly happy. Had he really grown so much? "Then the guest room…" Molly continued, "This is the den. Molly added walking into the room. She saw Sherlock take the room in then look over at her slightly.

"Beautiful cello." Sherlock said as he sauntered into the room. "I'd say this was more of a studio than a 'den', Molly." He looked back to her and smiled.

"I suppose you could." She laughed out.

"I didn't know you were so creative. The cello, yes… I could tell by your hands…" he walked over to her slowly looking down at her with each step.

"Hands, calloused but not from work, so an instrument then." He took her hands in his, running his fingers over the pads of her own. His tips lightly gracing her which caused a wonderfully subtle electric sensation to run through her. "not as rough as a consistent player like myself, but still shows years of practice and dedication—so a good cellist I presume. You play on occasion, possibly when alone or feel the sense to convey emotions that you cannot quite express. Much like myself." He gripped her hands then which willed her to look into his sea colored eyes. He looked down at her pensively, as if waiting for her to cower away from his touch, yet she did quite the opposite. He felt her hands relax. He didn't quite know how to proceed. He didn't want to ruin this moment by pulling back, nor pushing too far.

"Quite right. But that's no surprise now is it?" Molly said smiling up at him. He smiled back. "I suppose not."

"All right then. I'm sure the kettle's read—"

"What about your room?" Molly shot her eyes up at the man who seemed to be looking at her innocently enough.

"Oh… Sure! This way." Molly said nervously. She really didn't want Sherlock to see her room. She was afraid of what he might deduce about her missing him. She knew immediately that Sherlock would understand the painting in her room and the thought frightened her. She missed Sherlock dearly while she was gone, but she wasn't prepared to have him know just how much.

When they walked into the room, Molly stiffened instinctively preparing for the onslaught of remarks that Sherlock would make, "Well, it's nice. Is that the painting John bought you?" He turned around and looked at Molly sincerely curious.

"Yes it is." Molly said a sense of confidence returning to her.

"It suits the room quite nicely, you know." He said while coming closer to her, his eyes light with mischief.

"You know!" Molly gasped. "Of course you know…" she looked away sheepishly trying to hide her blush.

"There is no need to be embarrassed Molly. It flatters me, also…" he paced one foot with the other nervously. "It brings me a sense of relief that you missed me also." He said quickly while clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

Molly looked up at him eyes wide. "Really?" she couldn't fight the smile spreading across her face.

"Yes, of course you silly woman. Hence why you can never leave again." He said finally looking at her smirking.

"Oh." She began.

"Not like that, Molly." Sherlock retorted.

"Like what then?" Molly looked up at him from the vanity. Sherlock only sighed and moved closer to his pathologist striding quickly to her side.

"I meant that I would miss you too much, far, far too much." He breathed so close to her that his breath fanned her face. She let out a sigh from the warm sensation gracing her and looked into his eyes. He smirked slightly from her dazed expression.

"…Oh." She said lightly from her lips.

"Yes… exactly. 'Oh…'" He let out as he came closer to her and kissed Molly firmly. She sighed into his lips and grabbed on to the lapels of his suit jacket for support in hopes of not falling. Sherlock snaked his arms around Molly's waist lightly and pulled her close to him not wanting to let go and lose the wonderful sensation of her body against his.

Sherlock pulled away slowly and he heard Molly whimper from the lack of contact. "I believe we need to find out who is trying to destroy my name… and in the process, yours." He whispered lightly into Molly's ear.

"Ah… yes, I believe you're right. Let's go to the kitchen then?" Molly stated calmly and Sherlock followed behind her and picked up the files he put down on the chest by her bed.

Molly set out the tea and ordered pizza for them to eat in the process of looking through various files. It was already late when her and Sherlock arrived at her place, well after eight, but now it was getting close to midnight and almost every files the two had picked up had seemed to be tampered in some shape or form.

Molly looked down at the files incredulously and studied them for any clue or indication of who might have tampered with the files. Honestly she could only think of one person who would know where the files would be located aside from Mike, but she found it hard to believe that someone life Jennifer would try to frame Sherlock.

"Every autopsy report has been tampered with. Same with you Molly?" Sherlock said looking up from the papers scattered in front of him. Molly just nodded in confirmation.

"Strange. Who knew where you kept the files?" Sherlock asked as he became more interested with the situation.

"Well, no one really. Only Mike Stamford who would never do such a thing—"

"Of course not." Sherlock chimed in.

"The only other person who would know, or have to know would've been—"

"Jeanette." Sherlock said seriously. "Of course!" he smiled and slammed his hands on the table in victory.

Molly's eyes widened and her brow quirked in confusion at his revelation.

"I—I'm sorry, who?" Molly looked even more confused now at his accusation. He looked at her as if she could forget the blonde so quickly. He wished he could forget her so quickly.

"That annoying woman who took your place while you were gone. Only yet _another _reason why you cannot leave, ever again. Understand?" He looked at her and Molly couldn't help but smirk. Her smirk then turned to a giggle, then to laughter.

"What?" Sherlock snapped.

"Do you mean _Jennifer_? As in the woman who took care of the lab while I was gone? Jennifer was her name Sherlock." Molly said holding back another onslaught of giggles.

Sherlock looked at her surprised, "Jennifer? Well, whatever the woman's name was—Jeanette, Jennifer, I don't care—she wasn't you so it doesn't matter." He said absently going back to the files strewn across Molly's table.

Molly looked at him quite speechless of the who thing, she had no idea what to say. She was important to him—she knew that now. She had never seen him so open and expressive of such things, for goodness sakes he kissed her, more than once! And he initiated! She blushed at the thought of it all. She reached her hand over to Sherlock's and squeezed it comfortingly. He looked up at her and she smiled.

"What is it?" He said to her softly, not in a condescending way, or irritated, but soothing, one of comfort, he spoke to her softly because her smile took his breath away, but he refused to admit it. He wouldn't allow her to know that she held so much over him, not yet anyway.

"Thank you. For wanting me here, for being there, for just—being you Sherlock." She said finally, her voice as soft as a whisper. His eyes widened slightly at the noise. He loved the noise, the sound of her voice. He had to catalogue that for a later date. In fact, he had to catalogue all of this for a later date. She was putting him through so many emotions that he almost didn't know what to do. His mind raced at what to say next, what gesture to give next, trying so hardly in his mind to choose the right words so he didn't somehow accidentally offend her. Yet he just stared at her and smiled.

"And thank you for coming back." He offered and squeezed her hand just like she did his only moments ago. A blush crept slightly to her cheeks at the gesture but she quickly looked away in hopes that Sherlock wouldn't notice, but he did, He always noticed.

Shortly after Molly made more tea and brought out some pastries she had as a light dessert. She tried clearing off the table somewhat giving the two of them room to enjoy their tea and pastries. She put away the files that they knew were tampered with and made notes where necessary n post-its, but it was getting quite late and Molly had work in the morning.

"Sherlock I—"

"No need Molly, you need your rest. Do you mind if I stay for the night?" Sherlock asked simply and Molly looked up almost in bafflement at the words flowing from his mouth. She supposed it would be all right. There was a guest room, so he could stay there. He would most likely not sleep anyways and work on the case. She would feel comfortable knowing she wasn't alone and would sleep more soundly.

"Sure. Will you need anything?" she said finally.

"Nothing too drastic. Just tea for me, thanks." He said cordially and she nodded smiling making sure to make a large kettle of tea for him before going off to bed.

"Well, I'll be off then. Have work in the morning you know!" Molly laughed out. He looked at her and nodded while going back to the files.

Molly went to her room and changed to go to sleep. She was exhausted. She had had quite an eventful day that was for sure. She was happy things were going well. She was back at Bart's Sherlock had missed her; he had kissed her—more than once! She smiled at that, and they were working on a case together. She could barely contain all the feelings she had going through her mind. Then Sherlock asked to stay at her flat, and then told her she was important, and that he missed her. She sighed into her pillow. How would she sleep now?

Morning came almost too quickly. Molly had work at ten so she got up quite early so that she could shower and make breakfast for her and her tall dark and handsome guest. She smiled as she hummed her way to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and showered. She lightly sang a sweet tune in accordance with her mood. She was just far too happy to keep it all to herself, she almost felt as if she were in a musical and was ready to burst out into song at any moment.

When she exited the shower, Molly dressed herself and brushed out her hair. She had on a red cami and a pair of black booty shorts. Why not? She threw on her pair of flip flops and waltzed to her kitchen to start breakfast.

Molly stopped short and looked to her kitchen confused when she saw both Holmes brothers sitting at her kitchen table casually drinking a cup of tea, as if she was the one who was intruding. They stared at one another in what seemed to be a silent conversation with one another.

"Morning." Molly said as she went to make a pot of coffee, mornings were for coffee, every other time of day, tea.

"Molly." Sherlock said as he looked up to her and smiled, allowing his eyes to linger longer on her sparsely clothed form.

"Morning Sherlock." She blushed. "Mycroft." Molly nodded to the older Holmes who took his eyes off his brother to nod to Molly cordially. "Molly." He said in his normal regal fashion.

"be sure not to bore holes into her with your eyes, won't you brother?" Mycroft smirked, which caused Sherlock to look back at him almost seething.

"Oh shush you two." Molly chided and they both looked at her surprised at her remark. "What would you both like for breakfast?" She smiled. "Whatever you were intending on making will be fine, Molly." Sherlock began, "Would you like some help?" He asked simply. Mycroft shot his eyes over to his little brother widening them slightly at his question to the small woman.

"No, it's fine. You're both my guests. I don't mind. Pancakes and eggs all right with you lot?" He smiled at her and bowed his head cordially. "It would be lovely, thank you Molly." Sherlock finished as he sat down once more staring daggers at his older brother.

"Shut up Mycroft." He snapped. His older brother only smirked. "So you did not hire this Jennifer then? Interesting." Sherlock changed the subject immediately and took a sip of his tea.

"Quite right, yes. I did not I'm afraid. The person I hired must've been intercepted somehow. That begs to question though, dear brother… who did hire her?" Mycroft finished just as Molly laid out a warmed up tray of pastries, that caused Mycroft to smile. She tapped his shoulder lightly and he picked up one of the biscuits quite enthusiastically and placed the buttery bite into his mouth. Sherlock just looked on at the spectacle in front of him head tilted at the scene and gave a glance at Molly who then winked. He smiled—realizing she did this for his snide remarks to the detective earlier. _You sneaky woman you_. He thought.

Sherlock smirked at his older brother who looked at him and straightened up immediately at the attention. "Well, only one person could, and would do this brother." Sherlock said just as he took in a wonderful whiff of the food Molly had placed before them. Fresh pancakes and eggs, bacon and sausage. He looked up at her eyes glittering, she giggled at the attention.

"Who might that be?" My croft questioned piling food onto his plate while nodding his head in thanks at Molly refilling both his and Sherlock's cups of tea.

"Moriarty of course!" Sherlock shot his eyes up to his brother and took an aggressive bite on his fork, part pancake, part bacon, and the sound that came from his mouth sounded almost too intimate for the kitchen setting. He looked at Molly and swooned over the food in his mouth. Molly openly laughed at his expression and playfully hit him in the arm.

"Moriarty, really?" Molly asked as she took a sip of her coffee and a bite of pancake—it was quite good.

"Yes. It explains why she carried the same stature of John, why she had no clue as to what she was doing while there and purposely tried to aggravate me—probably was the plan all along, to annoy me so much that I wouldn't want to come into the lab!" He slammed his hand down on the table in proclamation. "Oh, Moriarty!" he said as he looked around the room. "You are clever—aren't you? Just feeding them nothing but lies, easy ones too. And involving you…" Sherlock looked to Molly quickly.

"What about me?" She peeped.

"Well that dear Molly, will be his biggest mistake." Sherlock finished as he stood up from the table and ran off towards the bathroom leaving Molly to stare at the chair where Sherlock had previously sat.

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Once again-I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update this! everything has just gotten so far away from me, I apologize! I hope you love it all, and please don't hate me! haha


	15. Chapter 15: Dessert?

**Chapter 15**

**Wow! Chapter 15 Already! :D Also, ON the plus side… I have reached over 100 Reviews. YAAAAY! I cannot believe it! :D Thank you for all the love and support you have all given me throughout it all! Truly! I couldn't be happier!**

**crooney83:** Don't worry, it'll happen, Eventually! :D

**Kathmak:** I'm glad you were happy with it! Thanks! I'm happy with how it turned out! :D

**4May:** Aw! Wonderful! I'm glad you liked it, and I like the breakfast scene too! I almost want someone to draw it cause I think it would look incredibly comical. Haha

**Renaissancebooklover108:** Hahaha It's okay, I just LOVED the cello scene so, so much! Hahaha And yay! I'm glad you're happy about the update too, Woo! Haha I love when you all miss me! :D

**Niafadra:** Yeah, I wanted to bring something different to the story, give it more depth perhaps? Thought it was high time, ya know? So I'm glad you were happy with it. :)

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**Poodle warriors:** Hahaha Thank you! I didn't want her too strong, but what the hey! That's her man now! :D Well—sorta' haha

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**AdaYuki:** YAY! I'm so glad that you did! I love making my readers happy. :) Aw! Thank you so, so much! I am really happy with this chapter. I realized my writing has improved immensely looking back on all my old stuff, so… YAY!

**SallyandMidna:** Aw, why thank you so much, dear! I can't wait to see what's next either—cause frankly it just comes to me. I never have a plan! Haha

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**Yay! Well thank you all so, so much for all the love and support you have given me, sincerely, I truly mean it. It gives me the motivation needed to keep going—honest! I have been in such a rut with everything lately that I just have no energy. Yet knowing you all enjoy what I come up with keeps me going! :D So, for that I love you all! **

**So on with the show, shall we? **

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Molly didn't know what Sherlock was initially up to but he came bouncing out of her bathroom with a skip to his step and eyes bright. She looked at him from her seat still eating her breakfast then took a glance to the other side of the table where the other Holmes brother sat. She had to stifle a laugh at the older Holmes' expression. He had his head quirked to the side and a slackjaw look on his face. Molly chanced another look at the detective and saw him smirking even wider at his brother's face.

"Molly, I'm sorry I've gotta dash. Have to go to Baker street and talk to John about our findings." He said lightly.

"That's fine, I completely understand. Would you like me to pack you some breakfast to take with you?" She asked taking a small sip of her already cooling coffee.

"You'd do that for me?" he looked at her surprised. He came closer to her and she became nervous under his gaze. She looked up at him and immediately straightened trying to regain composure.

"Sure, of course. You barely ate this one." She said pointing at the plate on the table where Sherlock previously sat.

"I would like that very much, thank you Molly. " He said so sweetly in such a light and graceful voice that it surprised both Molly and Mycroft alike.

"Mycroft?" Molly asked looking to him, Molly didn't see it, but Sherlock's face almost faltered into a pout as if saying 'WAIT I THOUGHT I WAS SPECIAL' .

"No, that's quite all right-thank you for the offer though, Molly." He said regally. Sherlock looked at him with a scowl which Mycroft countered with a smirk.

"All right then. I'll just be a few minutes." Molly smiled as she went to the counter and packed some things away for her detective. Sherlock just watched her small frame move around the kitchen grabbing Tupperware dishes from the cabinets and humming a light tune as she put the food into the bowls.

Sherlock smiled. He quite liked watching her move about the room. Her lean legs striding to where they needed to go, he rear shimmying as she walked—he definitely liked that, he would catalogue that for later use, and how her hair bounced freely around her with each step she took taking in the impact. Her curls bounced around her like small springs. Her humming became lower and lower and he wondered why then realized that she finished packing the food. She put the containers in a small bag and handed it to Sherlock motioning him towards the door.

"I made a container for John as well." Molly smiled and Sherlock looked on with a scowl. "I'll make sure to give it to him." Sherlock said, and was immediately interrupted with a cough from his older brother which then was rewarded with a piercing glare from the younger Holmes.

"Sorry, I believe I had something in my throat." Mycroft concluded smiling and went towards the door grabbing his umbrella and coat in the process.

Sherlock began following suit and Molly trailed along behind holding the door open for both the men; it didn't need to be held open, but it gave her an excuse to be there.

"Will I see you later?" Molly asked Sherlock sweetly yet apprehensively. She was excited, yet guarded. She wanted him in her life but she wanted things slow, she also didn't want to get her hopes up and have him crush her when he thought she was comfortable, no… She didn't want that—she couldn't have that.

"I would look forward to it Miss Hooper." Sherlock said gently before he bent down and lightly pecked Molly on her lips sweetly. As he broke the kiss she looked up at him and smiled, noticing his smile in return, they barely noticed Mycroft glaring at them from the side.

"Good then." Molly said with quite a peppiness she had not expected. "I hope to see you soon. Enjoy the breakfast!" She smiled as she waved goodbye and closed the door behind both the Holmes'.

Molly went quickly to the kitchen to clean the dishes and ran to her bedroom to get ready for work. It was a lovely spring day, just becoming April so the weather was crisp and light. She decided to wear a lovely dusty pink dress with short sleeves and a scoop neck that was form fitting and billowed out and stopped right at the knee. It was made of a comfortable cotton-like material, so it was light, yet extremely comfortable. With that she donned a pair of burgundy tights and wonderful black flats to match. Molly's hair was growing at a rapid speed, but she loved the natural waves that spiraled out of her tresses. She put a bit of product in her hair to make the curls even bouncier, and lightly covered her face in powder, mascara, and a light peachy pink lipstick for a splash of color. She felt lovely. All flutters and happiness seem to exude the day, and she hoped it would only continue throughout, but that would be wishful thinking wouldn't it?

Sherlock returned to Baker street to face a very curious John Watson. He was sitting in his usual chair drinking his morning tea and reading the paper when he finally saw his flat mate enter the sitting room.

"So where were you last night?" John asked looking up at the tall detective. Sherlock looked at him quickly, turned to face the door to hang his Belstaff and scarf up and turned once more quickly heading towards the kitchen.

"Molly's." He said plainly as he opened the bag the small woman had given him and he could do nothing but smirk. Sherlock sworn he heard his friend choke on his cup of tea, but maybe he was imagining it.

"You were where?" John stormed out to the kitchen in a huff and looked at the detective puzzled.

"What is that?" John looked at the Tupperware dish in Sherlock's hand. "Breakfast." He said just as plainly.

"She made you breakfast?" John said which Sherlock answered with a nod. "She _packed _you breakfast?" John asked again as Sherlock turned around with a smirk on his face and nodded once more in reply.

John just left out a sigh at the scenario in front of him. "Don't worry—she packed you some too." Sherlock said trying to hide the smirk from is voice.

"She did?" John's eyes lit up at the new information. He looked over to his blogger and nodded once more in reply. "Here" He said as he handed John the Tupperware dish Molly made especially for John. He looked at it and smiled. It was still warm and frankly John wasn't picky. He took off the lid and headed to the sitting room to eat his wonderful breakfast—the day was turning up.

Sherlock sauntered in with his food on a plate hot from the microwave with a cup of coffee in hand. He sat down and looked at John expectantly waiting for him to begin.

"Well?" Sherlock said looking at his best friend as he began taking a bit of his breakfast humming in response to the delightful food in his mouth.

"So you stayed at Molly's last night…" John began. "Yes, I did." Sherlock responded and took a sip of his coffee.

"And?"

"And what John?" Sherlock was almost becoming agitated with the nonsensical questions. He knew what he was curious about he just wanted him to get to the point already.

"What happened?!" John almost yelled. Sherlock looked up from his plate to his blogger and almost scoffed him off at his reaction.

"Nothing happened John—nothing."

"Oh bollocks! I saw you two kiss yesterday! I'm not blind, nor stupid you know." John said to him. Sherlock smirked as he ate another bite of his breakfast. Should he tell John that he and Molly kissed yet again? And last night seemed to be much more intimate then the kisses that he and Molly shared earlier that day. Or should he just tell him about their findings?

_John doesn't need to know everything. _His mind reasoned; and frankly it was true. Sherlock looked up to his friend sitting across from him and spoke.

"We found out that the files were indeed tampered with. By the time we discovered this, it was already late—so I asked Molly if it would be all right that I stayed the night. Of course she obliged and I stayed in the guest bedroom, yet I barely slept as I looked over more files for any other clues, and also just to reminisce so to speak." Sherlock concluded.

"Alright then." John seemed satisfied with his response. "Did you two snogg for half the night as well?" John asked abruptly which caused Sherlock to almost choke on his coffee. "What?!" he strained out and John smirked. "So you two _did _kiss again. Interesting. Good on you mate." John said smiling.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock said as he stood up to take his plate to the kitchen. "Oh come off it Sherlock. I know the look of a happy man, and I definitely know it on you. You are practically beaming." John concluded. Sherlock stopped mid-step to process what his friend was saying and smiled. It was true, he was happy almost too happy at the turn of events. Molly was back a Bart's and that alone did things to his demeanor. It certainly did help though that she looked marvelous, and that she came back stronger than ever. She still had her moments of mousiness, but Sherlock only now found it endearing. He looked forward to working with his pathologist once more and even better that he would have a case involving Moriarty in the plot! Was it Christmas already?

"I don't know what you mean John." Sherlock continued to smirk as he put the plate into the sink and sauntered out to the sitting room to join his friend once more.

"Whatever. You don't have to tell me. You hurt her though—and I'll hurt you." John deadpanned to his friend across from him. Sherlock actually chuckled at that. He found it thoughtful that John looked out for Molly the way he did, he was like her big brother.

"Of course. Now down to business." Sherlock began as he straightened up in his leather chair. "While I was at Molly's last night…" John let a cheeky smile spread across his face which caused Sherlock to scoff. "Molly and I discovered that the files of the cases Molly and I worked on were indeed tampered with. We compared both, because Molly—as brilliant as she is kept backups of all her reports, especially the ones involving me." Sherlock let a triumphant smile spread along his face. "All right… keep it moving Romeo." John said and Sherlock frowned at his new found nickname but shrugged it off. "So, we had solid proof that they were tampered with—and Molly said the only people who knew the location of her files were Mike Stamford—"

"Which is a no."

"Exactly. And lastly that woman Jennifer!" Sherlock slammed his hands on the chair once more in exclamation. John looked at his friend not quite surprised at that news, but surprised that the woman who took Molly's position was the one to tamper with the files.

"Strange. How did Mycroft let a woman like her take Molly's position? Losing his touch?"

"That's the marvelous thing John!" Sherlock said excitedly as he jumped into his chair once more. "Jennifer was not the woman Mycroft had chosen to replace Molly!" He said to John in satisfaction, John only tilted his head to the side in confusion. "The woman Mycroft intended to put in Molly's place was intercepted somehow." Sherlock concluded.

"Where is she now?" John asked.

"Oh I don't know, dead perhaps? Who knows."

"Sherlock!"

"What?!" he said in frustration. "Focusing on that woman will serve us no good. If she is dead, it is only a dead end, and I assure you she most likely is. Moriarty wouldn't leave any loose ends." Sherlock finished. John could only reply in a disappointed huff.

Sadly John couldn't argue. Sherlock had a point. It scared the man how he was beginning to agree with the detective's logic. The only thing learning this information seemed to do was make him disappointed in himself.

"So then, what now?" John said

"Well, we need to figure out who this 'Jennifer' really was and what her relation to Moriarty was, and capture her… if she's still alive." Sherlock stated as her picked up his violin and began strumming the strings absently.

"Right then… makes sense." John countered and nodded his head slightly, looked at the detective and let out a hefty sigh.

The room sat in silence with only the bustling sounds of London going about behind him. Randomly Sherlock would elicit small sounds from his violin, nothing coherent—only strumming sounds as if running something through his mind, which he might be doing. John could almost not take the silence. What had brought it on? They had a case, normally at this point Sherlock would be standing up dramatically and throwing on his Belstaff and scarf and running out the door to solve the damn thing. Yet here he was strumming away at his violin plucking at chords, it wasn't unpleasant—certainly better than his normal screeching across the chords eliciting a god awful sound from the poor instrument.

He could make the thing dance with the melodies he produced if he so wished, but the man was so stubborn. He allowed his feelings to flow onto the strings, which John supposed was healthier than not expressing his emotions at all—one of the reasons John allowed the behavior to commence.

"What's the matter?" John asked pointedly looking at his best friend sitting in his leather chair. Somehow his suit still looked perfectly pressed, even though it was the one he worn the day before, he never understood how Sherlock managed it.

"Molly…" Sherlock let spring from his lips. John looked at him expecting him to continue, but realized the detective might need a little push.

"Yes, and?" He said.

"I… I have a certain fondness—affection for her John." Sherlock looked to him almost scared at such a confession tumble from his mouth. The look in his eyes was one of excitement as well as fear. Fear of the unknown.

"Ah… yes. I don't need to be you to know that you twit." John smirked at his friend and Sherlock just groaned.

"Instead of mocking me, maybe you could help me—what do I do John?!" He did everything but scream at his friend. John looked at him expectantly with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Ask her on a date, you're not that daft."

"No." Sherlock answered almost too quickly.

"I'm sorry—what?" John looked at him baffled. "You just said you liked—"

"Yes I did John, brilliant observation! But that doesn't mean I'm going to go around and buy her roses, take her to dinner—to the cinema. I refuse to waste my time with such mundane things." Sherlock looked at him almost bored with the conversation.

"Look, Molly will know that going on a date with you is the furthest thing from normal, so… it doesn't have to be to the cinema… or to dinner, or buy her flowers. You know her Sherlock—you two have surprisingly a lot in common." Sherlock looked up to him amused by the idea. He could do things for Molly, that would constitute as dates and it could benefit him as well. He began smirking.

"But not experiments in the lab, or cases." John finished, and Sherlock pouted.

"But why—"

"Because you need to show her that she is more to you than a pathologist that helps you out at the lab Sherlock! Jeesuss…" John ruffled his hand through his hair.

"But she is a good pathologist and enjoys—"

"Yes, she's a bloody good pathologist Sherlock, one of the best. Yet she's a woman too and likes things other than corpses and blood samples you know." Sherlock looked to his friend as if he had slapped him in the face with this information.

"Yes… quite right you are John. What shall I do then? I am not—not well versed in the social customs of—_courting._" Sherlock allowed the word to spew from his mouth with made John smirk.

"Well, this should be interesting…" John began; he swore Sherlock almost looked scared.

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Molly was in her usual routine but in higher spirits than usual. She was humming a wonderful tune that was playing on the radio softly in the corner. It wasn't often that Molly allowed for the radio to play in the morgue—she usually only allowed it when she was alone, more so because Sherlock would scoff at her choice is music and would groan every twenty seconds or so at the intrusion of his work, sometimes even blatantly making comments at her horrible taste in music. Thinking about him doing that only made her laugh.

She had a slow day. She had two bodies come in one died of natural causes—old age, and the other died of a heart attack. She relished in the easiness of the day and wondered if Sherlock was going to stop by and run one of his dramatically long experiments. Part of her hoped not, she wanted to get home on time—yet part of her wanted to see him. Earlier this morning had gone so well for the both of them—possibly could've went better if Mycroft didn't snide in the corner of the hallway like a pervvy teenager looking for any opportunity to poke fun at his younger brother.

Molly had just begun sewing up the first cadaver when her phone vibrated startling her out of her melodic trance of music. She picked up her phone and smiled.

**Assume no murders occurred today—work must be ****_boring_****.**

**-SH**

She giggled softly and texted him back quickly.

**Nice change of pace really, just two deaths, nothing**

**special—natural causes. Just finished sewing up the first body.**

**-Mollyxx**

How odd it was for her to be able to talk about bodies so casually with someone who wasn't a doctor, but it really wasn't—was it? It was Sherlock after all.

Her phone vibrated once more notifying her of another text.

**Plans after your shift? Since I am sure you will have an **

**Unreasonable amount of energy left from not working to **

**Your optimum potential. **

**-SH**

Molly blushed at the question. Would Sherlock really just be making small talk? She doubted it. She thought this over for a bit, and didn't quite know how to respond to his question. Did he want to come in and look at samples? Did he want to have dinner? Did he want to meet her after work? The only way she would know is answering his question, she supposed.

**Not really…**

**-Mollyxx**

**Ah, Care for a bite to eat then? I believe I owe you for breakfast. **

**-SH**

Molly could hardly contain the noise that escaped her mouth. It verged between a moan and a squeal. She covered her mouth, then hands and shook her head back and forth trying bring herself down from her exaggerated reaction. She breathed deeply and wrote a reply.

**I would love to. Meet me at Bart's?**

**-Mollyxx**

She waited anxiously for his reply. She almost became nervous and thought it insane since she had only sent the text mere moments ago—her nerves were getting the best of her.

**I think that would be sufficient. I will see you at 6.**

**-SH**

Molly sent a quick reply letting him know that she did receive and agreed to his time of coming to 'pick her up'. She was extremely grateful that she wore a nice outfit today. She gleefully remembered the black pumps she kept in her bottom desk drawer for occasions when she needed to look more professional than usual. She hurriedly moved on to the next body and examined the corpse, weighed the organs, and called the cause of death, sewed the man up and filed both reports accordingly.

She hated the tedious work of filing, yet—given recent events she had learned that her methods had not been in vain. She was curious as to why Sherlock was asking to go to dinner with her when he had such an interesting case waiting for him, it was quite odd really. She assumed that it was because he hadn't made any recent developments and could actually use some stimulating company and conversation—which Molly would definitely oblige, or it possibly was that he did just want to take her to dinner. Somehow that scared her more than just wanting her to stimulate thought processes—that she could do and be comfortable with it. A date? A proper date with Sherlock? Not so much.

Sure, she had thought about it over the many years of knowing him, almost to the point of absolute perfection. Yet, predicting how a date would go, and how a date would actually go were two different things. She needed to not think about it. She was not prudish; she had been on dates before—so no need to get worked up over one.

"Just because it's Sherlock Holmes doesn't mean anything…" Molly said out loud walking around the room and then stopped suddenly.

"Who am I kidding? Of course it does!" She proclaimed. "How many women has he been on dates with? NONE! Since I've known him anyway!" She smiled triumphantly. If that didn't give her confidence, nothing would.

It was nearing six, and she knew Sherlock was if nothing but prompt. She went to the women's room to freshen up her make up a bit—she was sure she looked drained, not from all of her work, but the lack of work she had throughout the day. Molly was used to moving around like she was pulled by a string—well, most of the time she was… by Sherlock. She ran back to her office to gather her things and popped out to the morgue quickly to be greeted by Sherlock smiling back at her warmly.

"Hello Molly." He said smoothly to her. She could feel the chill on him from the crisp night spring air. It lingered on him and the flush of his cheeks from the wind made him look marvelous.

"Sherlock." She greeted back a blush of deep red.

"Is that how you decided your outfit this morning?" He smirked at her walking closer.

"What—sorry?" she was confused.

"Did you gauge the deepest shade of red your face could go and tried to find a color to match it?" He chuckled out lightly, she harrumphed at his statement.

"You look lovely by the way." He said softly and came down to peck her on the lips just lightly, causing her to blush once more. "Oh—I… well thank you." She said flustered.

"You're hungry I hope?" He said to her with the slightest glint in his eyes.

"Oh yes, starving." She commented.

"Wonderful. I got us a table at a restaurant just a ten minute walk from here. You'll love it. They have your favorite dish." Sherlock said almost too cheery.

"Are you trying to butter me up, Sherlock Holmes?" Molly said as she took her coat from the detective and slid it on quickly.

"Not at all. Just being… 'courtly'. Isn't that how this works?" He said quick and smooth. He tried being nonchalant but Molly picked up the discomfort on his features.

"So… this is a proper date then…" Molly whispered out looking around the stairwell they climbed up to the lobby floor.

"I believe that is what they are called—yes. But I do not prefer such names or labels as 'dates' or boyfriend' or 'girlfriend' so remember that for future reference Molly." He seemed to say quickly which almost matched the speed of his walk she looked at his tall frame from behind in almost shock.

They made it outside and the cold London air shocked her into alertness. If she was at all tired before, it was long gone now. It was like a slap of adrenaline across her face. She sped up to Sherlock side quickly and looked at his brooding face. He looked down at he and she saw his features soften slightly.

"Everything all right?" She asked him.

"Yes, quite fine. Are you cold?" He looked at Molly almost with concern. She looked almost confused at his question. Yes she was, but nothing she couldn't handle she supposed.

"Yes, but I should be—" then she felt him wrap his strong arm around her tightly and pull he close. He looked down and chuckled at Molly's happily shocked expression. She was at first quite stiff but she molded against his strong frame and nuzzled to his side for warmth. He pulled her closer whether he realized or not, she didn't care.

"It's beautiful out tonight." Molly breathed out.

"It is." Sherlock said and looked down at he side with his eyes shining a bright smile on his face pink from the cold. She wanted to grab him and kiss him for hours, forget about dinner and just hold that memory and thought and never let go.

"We're here." He said as he ushered Molly forward into quite an upscale restaurant. Molly had always wanted to go, but never had the money, nor anyone to go with—well now she does. How exciting!

"Hello Don" Sherlock said to a random man in a smart looking suit. The couple passed by them and sat down at a booth by the window on the Thames.

"It's lovely."

"I'm glad you like it." He said smiling.

"Good evening Mr. Holmes." The man said whom Molly ran into earlier. "What will you have this evening?"

"would you like wine, Molly?" he asked softly and she replied with a nod.

"Bottle of blush please—your best." He said. "The usual for me, and… what will you have, Molly?"

She looked over the menu and excitedly looked over to the man beside the table. "I'll have an order of shrimp scampi please." Sherlock smiled. "You already knew that though didn't you…" she huffed.

"Just a hunch." He said.

"Oh please it is never 'Just a hunch' with you." She teased and he smiled brighter. She couldn't help but feel wonderful that she was the cause to the smile that was on his face most of the night.

Dinner was fantastic, the food was beyond anything Molly had expected and Sherlock and Molly took the time to talk to one another about the case that was developing. Just as Molly thought—there was nothing new to report. Sherlock's voice changed to one of agitation so she tried changing the subject immediately in hopes of not souring his mood.

"Dessert?" She smirked.

"I'm not really one for sweets…" Sherlock drawled out and sort of tilted his head around as if saying 'no'.

"We could share." She peeped. That seemed to pique the detective's interest. He looked over at the woman across from him and saw her lips slightly pink along with her cheeks from the amount of wine she had. This possibly was the reason why a woman such as Molly was able to ask him something she normally would never suggest. What type of man would he be if he refused?

"Only if it has chocolate." He stated simply, almost verging on cold—though that was not his intention. He was the world's only consulting detective, he could read people as if they were books and all Molly's book of a face was saying was, 'I want you to tease me.' He couldn't take the bait. He wanted to so badly. Her lips seemed to darken in color, possibly from her biting them. Was she doing that on purpose? He didn't know. She fiddled with the napkin on the table pulling it to its tension and letting it go. She was nervous—alcohol did that to her, but somehow also made her bold. It made her bold, but unsure of her actions. He liked bold Molly, but he liked sober Bold Molly… now she was being Bold _seductive_ Molly and he wasn't quite sure he could handle that one yet…

Although he'd love to try.

_Relax!_

"I _love_ chocolate." She seemed to purr. He looked at her… truly looked at her.

When had Molly become this unrelenting force of emotions Sherlock was unable to control? When had Molly become this gust of warm wind into his mind and heart? When did her 'too small' lips become something he gravitated towards? When did her 'inadequate breasts' become the thoughts of his many nights of sleep—lingering in the back of his mind? Her room had become warmer in his mind palace. So warm he almost never wanted to visit anywhere else. He would hold her there. Brush her hair from her face. Elicit soft cries from that perfect sweet mouth of hers.

She looked at him as he seemed to take her in like a predator did their prey. She couldn't quite place the look. His eyes had become darker. His mood had shifted. She could feel the tension at the table—between them rise. Had she done something wrong? Had she gone too far?

"Would you both like anything else?"

"Yes I would like—"

"No… nothing else Don. Thank you. Put that on my tab, Will you? Good night. Come now Molly." He said to her swiftly. She almost pouted like a child. She truly wanted dessert and now she would have to settle for the measly ice cream back at her flat.

"What as that about Sher—"

"We're leaving. Here, I'll take you home." He flagged down a cab immediately and they both got in. Thankfully for both their sakes Molly's flat was only about a 10 minute drive away.

They sat in the cab, the tension only building between the two, Molly had no idea what went wrong, what had happened. She was verging on mad. She had had a great time, a really great time, they had a nice night out—he was being quite sweet, they bonded and she tried flirting, but that apparently backfired as they are where they are now.

The cab stopped abruptly as Sherlock practically pulled Molly from her seat. They went to the apartments and to Molly's floor as Sherlock patiently waited for Molly to get her keys to open the door to her flat. He was not making this task on her easy. She was becoming quite nervous at his haste to get rid of her so while she was throwing herself the ultimate pity party she lost thoughts while looking for her keys.

"Oh jeez… I can't seem to—"

"Oh for goodness sakes! Just let me pick it!" Sherlock said agitated as he began working on the lock. Molly tried fighting the tears in her eyes that began welling up. Was this it? Was this what he was going to do? Pull her around make her happy, then drop the façade and take her home once he was done? How could she have been so foolish?

Once Sherlock had finally opened the door he let out a sigh and Molly dropped her tote to the floor. She saw Sherlock take off his coat out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to him as he looked down at her eyes darker than she had ever seen.

"Now then…" He began as he quickly pressed her against the back of her now closed door. He locked it stealthily and sheded Molly's coat from her small frame. She looked up at him, her mouth pressed to his and he trailed his hands lightly across her skin eliciting a moan from her which he then growled in appreciation.

She pushed him back slightly and looked into his eyes as he brought her closer to him.

"Wha—what are you wha—"

"I hope you have chocolate." Was all he said as he pulled her to his lips once more. Not only did she comply but she melted against him like a fine chocolate would in one's mouth. He pulled her to her room and threw her gently to the bed. She giggled lightly at his supposed roughness. He slipped off her shoes and massaged Molly's feet lightly.

"Gosh… that alone feels wonderful!" She moaned out.

He chuckled and crawled up to her slowly. He brushed the hair from her face and whispered lowly into her ear.

"Don't get too excited Molly, I'd hate for you to start without me." He said so close to her ear.

"Do we need the chocolate?!" she panted out. "I mean I could do with just you—just you is nice too." She let out in a laugh.

"We _need _the chocolate Molly." He said seriously before kissing her passionately and hard then swiftly stood up and went to the kitchen.

Molly laid on her bed mind racing with thoughts. The excitement and arousal was sincerely overwhelming. Sherlock alone was a fantastic man, who knew what knew what would happen when she found out what kind of lover he would be she blushed. Would she die from such eternal bliss? She put her hands to her face giggled and shook her head from side to side.

She Sherlock stalk back to the bedroom apparently with more than just chocolate in hand.

"I thought we'd make a sundae." He smirked.

Molly's face had to have been brighter than the bowl of cherries Sherlock held in his hand. He placed the items delicately on the bed and went to the woman laying on it. He began unbuttoning his shirt slowly in front of her and Molly could do nothing but stare at the man in front of her in wonder.

He wore a white shirt tonight. It was incredibly thin—so thin you could see the sew lines. He looked marvelous. His skin looked tan against the starkness of the lack of color. He pulled it off and threw it to the side of the room. He went to the straps of Molly's dress and began pulling them from her.

"Sherlock…" Molly began.

"Relax, Molly." He smiled to her. He pulled her dress off swiftly and pulled her tights along with it. She now lain before him in a matching pair of burgundy bra and panties made of lace. She looked wonderful. The color of her undergarments brought out the natural complexion of her skin. She seemed to glow beneath him. He grabbed a cherry from the bowl and placed one right at the crevice of her bellybutton. She looked at him eyes alight with excitement. He went to her lips and kissed her lightly. She sighed against him and begged with her body to have it against his own. He wouldn't allow it, not now. Not yet.

He took the whipped cream which Molly insisted on buying in a can—now he saw the benefits as he drew a circle around the now placed cherry, and a line up to her breast bone. He kissed the sides of her waist, taking great care not to touch his work-in progress while doing so, as he gently kissed and sucked on the valleys of her cleavage.

She moaned out his name which only caused him to claim her lips once more. She so badly wanted to pin the damn man to the bed and ravage him, but now she would make a mess if she had done so. So she waited, patiently. She had waited three years for something like this after all, what was another thirty or so minutes?

Tortuous apparently. He went for the fudge next, which he was very generous with. He swirled around the whipped cream circle at the belly and zig-zagged up her waist and distributed a fair amount among the visible mound of her breasts that weren't covered with lace. He licked a trail up her neck and kissed her again, his lips now laced with the sweetness of chocolate. She tried pulling at him, but he only lowered himself, kissing and licking at her jaw, then down to her collarbone, then down to the mound and cleavage of her breasts licking and sucking like a man who had stated the finest of flavors life had to offer—and maybe he was. Molly was intoxicating to him, seeing her underneath him, unmovable, covered in chocolate and sweets drove him almost to the point of madness.

"Ah! I forgot the best part." He snickered. He reached over Molly's shivering frame to grab the last piece, Molly's eyes widened.

"Can't have a sundae without ice cream." He smiled.

He grabbed a small spoon and dolloped a scoop lightly on Molly's stomach which caused her to moan and hiss at the sensation. He looked up at her smiling. She looked at him, face covered in chocolate. He almost looked greedy, and she loved it. He placed his mouth over the ice cream and licked and sucked and swirled it along with the whipped cream and fudge. He moved his hands along her thighs in the process which caused her to buck underneath him from the overwhelming feeling of him touching her in so many ways.

He trailed down further adding another small scoop, causing her to gasp in surprise from the cold, and then moan at his mouth touching contact to her skin. The difference in temperatures, sensations and movements was driving her mad. She loved every moment of it and had no idea what would happen next. He moved down to her navel where the cherry laid and licked around the spot lazily before lightly putting the cherry into his mouth only to immediately place it into her cleavage. She looked at him curiously as he smiled and grabbed another dollop of ice cream and placed it in between the valley of her breasts. Now that she was clean he pressed himself against her as her placed his face and attention to getting all of the ice cream gone. She arched into him and moaned when she felt his hardness against her thigh.

He came out in a pant, cherry in mouth smiling as he bent down to kiss the woman beneath him. The split the cherry, it seemed only fair, he rationalized. She did taste quite good.

She wanted to do the same to him, but Sherlock reasoned that it would not go over as well as it did as he was an impatient man, saying she could repay him in some other way.

Sherlock was perfectly content eliciting moans from his pathologist all night, whether that led to sex, meant little to him, at least for now. It was early in the relationship after all.

Yes, he assumed that this had somehow altered things, in what way, he wasn't sure—but he liked the direction it was going. After a solid forty-five minutes of snogging and heavy petting both of them laid entangled in one another and Molly laid next to him sleeping contently. She did have work in the morning after all.

He watched the rise and fall of her breasts which were enclosed in the lace prison. The softness of them would stay on his lips and the forefront of his memories for a lifetime. He would not forget any of what happened to night, and he surly would not regret it.

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I am so so sorry this took forever guys! But I hope you like it! :) I had tons of fun writing it, so let me know!

It got sexy! YAY! I know you were all waiting for it, so woo! I wasn't going to make them have sex so soon, cause well, it's Sherlock—I felt strange making him do this! But I love having him being playful and seductive.

I hope you all enjoy! :)


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